Master of Death
by MadEyes
Summary: -AU- Reality is ever changing, but Magic will always be. Death is rarely final and the Soul, seldom complete. To become a Guide from a splinter, to have the Spirit to succeed, one thing will always be certain: to Master Death he will need.
1. Unsteady Reality: Echoes

_**Disclaimer:**_ Characters from the _Harry Potter_ series are the property of J.K. Rowling and various publishers: including but not limited to Bloomsbury, Scholastic and Warner Brothers. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended by the writing of this story.

_**Notes:**_ Welcome everyone! I confess to being somewhat reluctant in beginning this, what with _Earth's Emissary_ and _Before Me_ not even close to being finished, but the basic ideas that make up this fic have been buzzing in my head for several months now. Yes, _months_, and with the end of the Harry Potter series, well, I wanted to get it started before it was too late, if you can understand that.

Anyways, before you go on reading you should be aware of some general information:

-+-

_**(1st)**_ This story is an _Alternate Universe_ AU of the complete Harry Potter series; meaning that there will be spoilers abound. Indeed, you could say that this is a combination of Time and Dimensional Travel. Like many fic's before it, I will be sending the soul of a seventeen year old Harry into the body of his eleven year old self. It is my hope, however, that the circumstances and conditions in which this is done are original enough to make it worth reading, so give it a shot, eh?

_**(2nd)**_ I can assure you, now, that while I will heavily rely on the _facts_ of the original series during the first few years to maintain continuity within the universe, _events_ will _not_ remain unchanged. In fact, if I have my way, by the end of third year and if everything goes as planned, the timeline will be completely unrecognizable.

_**(3rd)**_ And yes, you heard right. _Planned_. I have this story almost completely outlined; I don't say that I know exactly what I want to happen at every turn, seeing that these kinds of stories evolve as they are being written, but I _do_ have the basic structure of the story outlined pretty thoroughly. If anyone sees any plot holes, though, you are welcome to punch them in and tell me about them so I can do my best to fix them, okay?

-+-

Good. Now that you know all of this and are aware, at least partially, of what you are getting yourself into, then read on and should you feel so inclined, leave your thoughts behind in a review, eh? I'm particularly interested in feedback for this story.

Cheers!

* * *

Year One  
**Unsteady Reality  
**-+-  
Chapter One  
**Echoes**

* * *

He woke up, not suddenly or abruptly, but slowly. His eyelids felt heavy and his body hollow, empty; lighter even. He knew that it was still nighttime, maybe early morning, but he was not disoriented; he knew not to be surprised by the early hour, and oddly, even if his senses felt dull to him, his mind was sharper then he could ever remember it being. He understood perfectly well where he was and why he was in such a state; he knew why his body felt as it did and even why it felt so strange to him: it was not his own, yet still his; it was younger, smaller, reduced . . . undersized and malnourished; Thin.

_Weak._

It was odd how different it was from what he remembered, but then, he hadn't known what it felt like to be healthy at this age. At eleven; or was it ten?

Dear Merlin, eleven. And still, it had been his choice; and should he be given the option once more, he would make the same decision each and every time. The opportunity had been too good to be ignored, and though he felt empty and incomplete, he knew that it was only a temporary thing. It had been explained to him after all; what to expect and what he would have to do, even if those explanations had only been generalized guidelines. That voice, both cool and silky was hard to ignore, its words impossible to forget.

"_You are but an echo of your true soul,"_ he had been told, and that was how he felt; like a reflection in a mirror; insubstantial. And as he lifted his hands and finally focused his gaze, he saw it to be true; his body was almost transparent, his skin wispy, as if it were made out of smoke; opaque, translucent, yet still physical. It was a strange state of being.

He felt indifferent to it all, though, to his past and to his present; vacant. Though his knowledge remained, his emotions did not seem to have accompanied it; the memories of his past felt lacking, flat, as if they were missing the element that made them real; three-dimensional. _"You are but a fraction of who you once were,"_ he had been informed.

And still, apart from the hollow feel of his body and the flat, emotionless state of his memories, he was still very much Harry James Potter; his essence, his soul, though an echo of the original, contained everything that made the original what it was. _"Like the cuttings of a rare tree, you need but grow roots to become whole once more; to become as strong as the original tree; stronger, even."_

Therefore he had chosen to be planted in a new dimension; unstable as it was, new as it was, so that the roots that _did_ grow had a more pronounced effect. A place were the soil was fertile and rich, a place where the echo of a soul could become sturdy and independent. And while this meant that he would be an eleven year-old once more, it was still a good choice to make.

He knew the risks, of course, because there were always risks, but he was nothing if not a risk-taker.

"_In this unsteady world, made out of diverging choices of minor consequ__ence, change is the only stabilizing force."_ He remembered this clearly, and though he didn't know what to do nor had any plan to enact, he knew that he would have to make different choices, that he would have to be a force of change, lest he loose the minor grasp that he had been given in this new world and be dissipated in the wind of reality as the sound of his own echo faded.

As small a piece as he was, he knew that he could do this, that he could make this dimension his own, and though it seemed like a difficult thing to do, the tools to do so were already in his possession. For even as an eleven year old boy, Harry Potter could influence a great many things, and with the knowledge that he held, even if he were anyone else, he would still be able to become a big enough catalyst of change to avoid being swept away in the wake of similar choices.

Similar choices that formed the reality from which he originated.

This, above all else, was what he needed to concentrate on. Making this reality his own; making this world his home. And as he made this very small vow, he could feel the changes starting; feel his body become less light, slightly more tangible to his own senses. And he remembered, _"The more you change, the more it will settle. Only major, impacting differences will allow this dimension to become a reality."_

And so, as his Aunt Petunia unlocked the door to the cupboard under the stairs the next morning and he stepped out into the light, small ripples were sent out of where he stepped, influencing the intangible, unstable space around him. They were small changes, his own footsteps, but they were already placed differently than they were supposed to be, and that was a change in and of itself.

But then, only a major change would allow some semblance of stability to be gained, even if he were the only one that seemed to notice the wobbly quality of the world, for his Aunt and Uncle didn't seem to see that faded look of it, or the uneven cracks created by diverging decisions. So as he sat down on the table to the horrible smell of what was supposed to be his new uniform while expertly dodging Dudley's new Smeltings stick, the first changes that he could influence were presented to him in a way that he clearly remembered.

Thus, when his Uncle Vernon said from behind his newspaper, "Get the mail, Dudley," Harry stood up and told his Uncle not to worry, that he would get the mail instead.

Already, even as he avoided his Aunt's suspicious glance, he could feel his emotions stirring from their monotonous and previously flat state; excitement started to bubble within him as he walked down the hall and toward the front door, the smoky quality of his fingertips condensing slightly at his thoughts, even as the little ripples caused by his own footsteps became slightly bigger.

When he opened the door and poked his smaller head out, he saw three things on the doormat: a postcard from Aunt Marge, the water bill, and, most importantly – _A letter for him._

He didn't even glance at it, this time, or dawdle on his way back to the kitchen. He simply deposited his letter on the umbrella stand for later pickup; an umbrella sand that became remarkably solid because of this action. Because of this change. He already knew what it said; knew what it was. It was his Hogwarts letter. And already he felt more alive than he had since he had arrived within the swirling mists of Kings Cross Station after he had defeated Voldemort at Hogwarts, already he could feel his mind becoming sharper, his emotions slightly more intense.

Already he could _feel_ something more than apathy.

Harry Potter knew at that moment, even as an echo, that he would have quite a bit to do if he wanted to survive. But then, when it came to survival, he was second to none; cockroaches fled at his mere presence even as change followed his every action.

True, he didn't have things mapped out and he didn't quite know how to pull off what he wanted, but then, he had always done better when going by the seat of his trousers. And seeing that he defeated Voldemort with this quality, some luck and the correct amount of knowledge, then how much could he change with what he already knew?

It didn't take him much to prepare after he was done with breakfast, and he didn't have that much trouble slipping out of the house after helping his Aunt Petunia clean up a bit, his Hogwarts letter securely tucked into his pocket. True, he had to take some time to leave a carefully worded letter to his Aunt, but he knew that she would do what he asked of her, if only to be rid of him for good.

And as he stepped out of Number Four, Privet Drive, it became slightly less unstable, for he didn't aim on coming back to it, and even if he was placed within it once more, he would just slip away again – to the magical world.

That was change enough to make an impact, he knew. For sometimes, even those choices and decisions that we make solely for ourselves impact the actions we take and the path that we walk. By already deciding not to step foot within Number Four again, change happened, even if it was slight.

Getting to the Leaky Cauldron would have been the tricky part though, but he soon solved that problem by sneaking into the back seat of Mr. Number Seven as he was talking to his wife. It looked like she was sick today and he had stayed a bit later to make sure that she was alright before leaving, something that Uncle Vernon would hardly do should roles be so reversed.

When the car started and drove out into the street, he only hoped that he ended up somewhere close to Charring Cross Road; though he was already sure that he would have a long walk ahead of him. He balled up silently and got himself comfortable as he thought of what to do next and how to achieve it, glad that his eleven-year-old body was more resistant to the uncomfortable position than he would have guessed.

Still, when he settled on a sketchy course of action, he felt slightly more satisfied.

An echo he might be, but already the sound of his passing had become stronger. After all, change followed in his footsteps, and the trail of it started here, in Little Whinging, Surrey, which would never be the same again.

Not without Harry Potter around._  
_

-  
- o -  
-

Almost an hour later, more or less, Mr. Number Seven stopped on the south side of Hyde Park, on Kensington Road, long enough for Harry to get off unnoticed; and though it did turn out to be a long walk, it wasn't quite as long as he had thought; only some three and a half miles of walking, maybe a bit more, and in a mostly straight line, at that. True, he had to stop a couple of times to ask for directions, claiming to be on an errand from his Aunt, but he made it in time for the lunch-time rush without too much difficulty.

Slipping from the back seat of his neighbors sedan had been ridiculously easy, and he faintly wondered if hiding was an inherit wizarding ability, seeing as the opening and closing of the door was never noticed.

When he first sighted the Leaky Cauldron from the end of the street, a smile split his face even as he tried to ignore the shaky way that everything looked and felt; it was getting to the point where a headache had started to bloom behind his temples, a headache that increased as he focused on the grimy pub that held the entrance to the Wizarding World once he was close enough to make out any details.

For while everything else was only wobbly, fading or translucent, the Leaky Cauldron itself looked as if reality twisted violently around it. He had to pause half way down the street and avert his eyes, finally stopping when it became too much. If this was what it would be like in the Wizarding World, he couldn't really imagine how Hogwarts would look like to his eyes. So he scrunched them shut and willed the headache to the back of his mind, trying to think of a way to solve this unexpected problem. Hunching slightly against the wall and glancing at the entrance of the pub every few moments, as if the answer would reveal itself to him or his headache would diminish as he got used to looking at the distorted mass of reality.

None of it worked and no miraculous solution appeared before him, though.

He really didn't know why he was seeing the world like this, at that; though he understood the necessity of it, seeing how he could simply disappear should this reality break up. Being able to see the state of this universe allowed him to know the impact of his actions on it. But could he ignore the fickleness of his surroundings? Could he disregard the fragile threads that held everything together? He wouldn't even know how to ask for help, though he could only think of one person that could give it. Would he be able to even call for him? Was such a thing even possible?

So concentrated in his troubles was he, thinking of how he could effect change when he couldn't even look at the place that he needed to get into to do it, that he didn't feel the cool breeze brushing against his face until he was startled by the feeling of a hand being placed upon his head, as if ready to ruffle his hair.

The action forcibly reminded him of just how short he was and he grimaced at that.

He could see nothing around him and was going to reach to see if someone in an invisibility cloak had discovered him, when his eyes closed of their own accord and he felt them momentarily stretch and tingle. The invisible hand left his head rather abruptly while the breeze stopped blowing and he suddenly felt the need to blink his eyes wildly, an impulse that he hurriedly followed.

It all happened rather quickly too.

A moment later, he opened his eyes and gaped, even as a whisper in his ear made him jump, making him understand, _"Even a strong sapling needs some assistance as it grows new roots."_

Everything looked solid, _normal_. It didn't look as if it were a fragile bit of paper, or the translucent shade of molted snake skin, nor did it look unstable or wobbly as it did before. Blinking owlishly, he took off his glasses to rub his eyes, only to notice that everything immediately turned sharper than before. He could see perfectly! Maybe even better than perfect!

Dashing forward a bit so that he could look into the display window of a nearby store, he looked at himself; same unruly hair, same short stature and thin looks, same drawn-out features. But there was change there as well, oh yes, something was different. His_ eyes_ were different. There was a thin ring of black around his irises, and even as he blinked a few more times, he could see it expand and contract, as if it were a different kind of pupil, only that when this thin rim expanded, he could once more see the delicate quality of the reality in which he found himself in, as if he were focusing on it.

Turning around, he looked toward the wizarding pub and found that he could see it clearly this time around. With a grin back at his reflection, he arranged his bangs to cover the thin, almost impossible to see scar, which he had also notice was fainter than he ever remembered it being, said a silent, heartfelt _'thank you,' _and tucked his glasses into his pocket before crossing the street and scampering into the Leaky Cauldron, his head bowed as he swiftly crossed the pub, dodging between bustling patrons and following behind some exiting wizards into Diagon Alley, where he crossed the barrier before it had a chance to close.

Never once did he look up, even as he felt several eyes on him.

He didn't want a repeat of last time, especially since he didn't have Hagrid with him to stop any mobs should things get out of hand, what with the Boy-Who-Lived gracing the lot of them with his presence. He almost scoffed at that thought, though he knew it to be true.

It was strange as he walked down the cobbled street, and he couldn't help but marvel at how lively everything was, so different from those last few years when Voldemort started rising in power.

The street was filled with milling wizards and witches, merchants and any manner of different creatures. They were buying and selling, bartering over this potion ingredient or this weird little trinket. Magical folk, dressed in a vast array of colors, were happily gossiping over at the Daily Prophet stand, and he had to shake his head to dispel some of the marvel he felt at the sight, his emotions thrumming lowly within him, becoming more acute as he experienced everything around him.

It reminded him that he hadn't been to the Alley all that often, and apart from that time before his third year, he had never had a chance to fully explore the place when it was so active, so normal; for while he had spent a week wondering the Alley during that time, on the summer before his third year, the cloud of Sirius Black's escape had hanged dangerously above the wizarding population. Not to mention that at the time he was just grateful to be away from the Dursley's and slightly overwhelmed by the miniscule amount of freedom that he had at his disposal to truly take advantage of the opportunity. He was too young, too naïve, to take any kind of advantage of the freedom he was granted. This time, however, he would make sure to spoil himself a little, and explore some of those nooks and crannies that he had not looked at before.

When he reached his first stop he was bowed into Gringotts by the guards that stood in front of the silver doors and he made his way towards an empty teller while looking around the bank to see if anyone was paying him too much attention. Luckily, he only got a few odd looks, even as some older witches frowned slightly at seeing him without any adults. His purposeful stride, however, seemed to deter the more nosy ones from approaching him. He withheld a sigh at that. Being so young was both a blessing and a curse.

Still, this was the tricky part of his current plan-of-action. He needed access to his vault, yet he did not have the key to it and he didn't know how the Goblins would react to that. Hopefully, there would be a way to get at least a copy of his key, and maybe a bit of help from the Goblins, even if it was at a price. One thing was sure, once he knew how much he had to work with he would be able to figure out what to do next.

"Excuse me," he piped up once he reached a teller, and damn, but was he small! He had to bend his neck harshly to actually see the top of the goblins head. The teller, a sneer firmly planted on his ugly pointed mug, leaned forward from his lofty place and looked down at him.

Harry had to stop himself from glaring. His last experiences with the greedy creatures hadn't been all that pleasant. Still, after a long drawn out look from the pointy faced goblin, where Harry could swear the sneer had only deepened, the teller finally spoke up, "How can I help you, _sir_?" By the look on the bankers face, he probably thought that he would be a waste of valuable time.

"I would like to access my trust account," he told the teller firmly in his young voice, cursing at the fact that he would have to go through puberty again, but didn't fail to notice how the goblin became somewhat interested and presented a more pleasant face after his statement.

"And what is your name, sir?"

"Harry Potter," he whispered, so only the goblin would hear, and looked around slightly just to make sure that he wasn't overheard.

A raised eyebrow was the only response that he got, "And do you have your key, sir?"

"No, my muggle relatives simply told me that I would be able to access a Trust left to me by my parents, I didn't know that you needed a key," he lied through his teeth, frowning slightly as if in thought, before looking at the goblin once again, eyes wide, "is there any way that I might be able to access the account without it?"

He was surprised when the goblin simply told him to wait a few moments before he rummaged around with some papers and, upon finding what he was looking for, promptly handed Harry a roll of parchment and a black quill; a quill with a very sharp point; A quill that he would recognize anywhere. "Simply sign your complete name on the dotted line, sir," was the given direction.

Almost grumbling at the lack of explanation, but thankfully knowing what the quill was, he quickly unrolled the parchment and read it carefully, taking his time with it, which the goblin, surprisingly, didn't seem to mind, and thankfully found nothing wrong with the document, or really, any clauses that would make him loose all his gold, or ask for his firstborn son, or something of that sort. All in all, it was quite clear cut, seeing that it was only for the requisition of a new vault key or keys, should he have access to any of the vaults at Gringotts. Sighing and bracing himself, he used the wall as support as he signed.

_Harry James Potter_

It didn't take long for the flowing signature; much tidier than anything anyone would expect an eleven year old to produce, to etch itself out of his blood. A moment later, the document seemed to stiffen and stretch in his hand before it began folding into itself until he was holding a small golden key, surprise etched across his face. It didn't hurt quite as much as Umbridge's quill did as well, and he only felt a small twinge on his hand, so he suspected that the Undersecretary might have done something to make her own quill more, well, _memorable_.

It certainly fit her profile, that's for sure.

All in all, the whole process was unexpectedly anticlimactic, but still quite nifty. Seeing that the last time he visited this bank he had to fight his way out on the back of a security dragon, well, it was not really hard to suspect something a bit more flashy, is it?

Still, he was happy to have his key back with no complications, and patted himself on the back on a plan well executed, even if he now had to figure out what to do from here, and soon.

When the goblin extended his long fingered hand, Harry placed both the quill in it, and after an extra gesture, the key as well. The teller looked at it closely before peering over at Harry and handing over the key, "Everything seems to be in order, sir," he nodded, "Nagnok will take you down to your vault," he finished, gesturing toward a rather tall goblin that was working nearby.

"Thank you, sir," Harry said before turning toward his appointed guide.

Nagnok was merely half a head shorter than him, and rather thin, with the characteristic long fingers and feet and a pointed nose and chin, made more predominant still by his long pointed beard. If Harry had to guess, he would say that this goblin wasn't particularly young, either.

When they reached the narrow stone passageway that led to the vaults, Nagnok whistled for a cart, which came rattling up not a moment later. They climbed in and plunged through the underground labyrinth of vaults, going deeper and deeper into the tunnels. When they stopped, they both hopped out of the cart and Nagnok, with his key in hand, opened the door. The same green smoke as last time came out of the vault and the same mounds of gold, silver and bronze greeted him as he entered.

However, this time he knew that this was only a third of what his parents had left him, and that most of it would be needed for his tuition at Hogwarts. Taking a small pouch that Nagnok handed to him, he piled what he thought he would need for the next few days before making his way out, knowing that he would need to come and see how much he truly had at his disposal for the time being.

With a nod at the silent goblin, he quickly returned to the surface and out of the bank, looking around to see where he should head next. If anything, he needed a way to remain unnoticed, so with that in mind he headed over to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.

There he bought a new outfit; simple black slacks, socks and shoes, green shirt and robe, some rather spiffy boxers with emerald snitches flying around and a pointed hat. Paying for these and changing inside the shop while dodging around a few questions and avoiding having his scar spotted, he finally placed the hat securely over his forehead and walked out after telling the seamstress that he would come back later for his school robes, which seemed to appease her slightly.

Without his glasses and the hat covering his mop of hair, he wouldn't really be recognized at first or even second glance, unless someone was looking for him. Or at least that's what he hoped. After all, there were no pictures of him circulating at the moment and only a handful of people could probably pick him out on sight, and even then with some difficulty.

He stopped by the post office next and after opening his Hogwarts letter, quickly dashed a reply to it, something that he had kept firmly in mind, and assured McGonagall, who he had addressed it to, that he accepted the invitation and assured her that he would not miss the train. Indeed, he worded the note in such a way that it belied some of his knowledge of the Magical World, giving the impression that he was at least partially informed. After all, he couldn't risk a new letter being addressed to him, especially as he planned on staying a few nights in the Leaky Cauldron. The Head of Gryffindor's interest would surely be peaked should the next letter be addressed there.

As it was, he had told his Aunt Petunia about Mrs. Figg in the letter he left her, making sure that he had that base covered at the very least. His Aunt, however much it might upset her that he had left without anything more than a short letter, would never make it so that he was forced to go back into her well-to-do home. If anything, he was sure that she had already told the old squib some lie about where he was, probably hinting enough for the elderly cat lover to think that he was getting ready to go to Hogwarts.

Should anyone find out just who he was, his visit and stay in the Alley would probably match what his Aunt spouted, he hoped.

After he was done with that, having seen the owl with his letter departing, it didn't take long for him to stop by the pub, where he had some lunch and was able to set aside a room for a couple of nights, explaining to Tom that his relatives, being muggles, were nervous around wizards; which was true enough. He explained that he was to take his time buying his supplies and that they would pick him up next Friday afternoon, probably after lunch, giving him two full days to do his shopping.

This had soothed the barkeep's worries and he soon had a key to a room, and an understanding ear should he need to ask any questions, though he knew that the well intended wizard would still keep an eye out for him and his safety.

His tummy pleasantly filled and the beginnings of a true plan finally forming in his head, Harry set out to buy his school supplies next. He got a rather cool school trunk for himself, knowing that he would need the space soon enough; it was made of light mahogany with bronze fastenings, but its most interesting feature was that it was made with a boarding school in mind, though it was the high end of that particular collection. The trunk was vertical in shape, with three compartments, one in each of its sides, and then the back which would then be placed against the foot of a bed or the wall, or used if the trunk ever needed to be laid down.

From the left side of the trunk a long chest of drawers expanded, giving him a place for his clothes and miscellaneous items as well as a good surface to place any amount of nick-knacks. The sales-witch even included a perch for his owl, complete with a spill tray underneath it, which pops up from the top when the chest of drawers is unfolding itself, which he had been delighted with since he was planning on buying Hedwig first thing in the morning. The front compartment was only slightly larger on the inside than the outside, with two cabinet-like doors. It was specifically made to store Potions equipment and ingredients, along with a few other things, like his telescope, vials and other materials or items that are requested in later years. Lastly, the compartment on the right side was a simple bookshelf that slid out smoothly, which was quite useful, since he remembered that the shelves in the dorm rooms weren't exactly spacious. Not to mention that his dorm-mates had had a bad habit of borrowing books without asking sometimes; which was more than a bit annoying when you needed them.

If he were to open both the chest of drawers and the bookshelves, the trunk was somewhat longer than the foot of a Hogwarts bed, but with the drawers shuffling each other, shrinking or moving out of the way depending on which you wanted to open, it was easy to shrink that to fit so that it wasn't in the way **(1)**. The books within the bookshelf compartment almost looked as if they were in a conveyor belt, since they rotated within their shelves. Like he said, it was dead useful.

Especially since most of the time he had simply piled his books on the floor or under his bed, something that he wanted to avoid this time around; he had tripped over them one too many times when waking up, he remembered. All in all, while it was vaguely shaped like a trunk, it was anything but, though he remembered that Remus had one like it that opened down the middle and turned into a shelving unit that held quite a few more books than it should.

Following this rather pricey purchase, but not regretting it in the slightest, Harry made short work of his school list, getting his cauldron, scales and potion ingredients, along with stationary, quills and other necessities; though he splurged a little in emerald green ink and a couple of empty journals. He even bought a small nest of enchanted tooth-fairies, which were bright, diminutive little objects that thoroughly brushed and cleaned your teeth without you having to lift a finger, or so the sales-witch had told him. Then he continued with his school robes and a few extra pairs of clothes for everyday wear, protective gloves and winter apparel, along with comfy pajamas. He knew that he would start growing fast, so he didn't buy too many outfits, though at the same time he made sure that he would not find himself wanting or that he would grow out of the few things he did buy for the next year at least; extra fabric along the hems and charms to release it ensured as much, among other things.

He took his time in the bookstore, though, and surprised the clerk by buying the texts for _all_ seven years at Hogwarts, along with a few extra reference books that he remembered were particularly useful, not to mention a book on Occlumency, one on Animagi and, on a whim, one of Musical Magic. He had noticed the small Magical Instruments shop besides the Owl Emporium and thought that it would be interesting to teach himself how to play something to keep himself entertained. After all, he was sure to have a lot of free time on his hands, this time around.

Finally, at the end of the day, he decided to brave Ollivander's, knowing that the old man would probably recognize him on sight, but still needing his wand, if only for the comfort it provided, since he wouldn't be able to use it until he reached the school. He just hoped that the old wand maker wouldn't tell too many people that he had stopped by his shop; he would be sure to ask him to at least keep his visit quiet until he was out of the Alley, if nothing else. He didn't want to think what would happen if anyone spotted him, but it was one of those risks that needed to be taken.

After all, what's a wizard without a wand?

Making his way into the dusty wand shop, he rallied together to keep his wits about him, even as he was measured and assessed by the canny old wizard. Whatever the case, it actually took quite a lot less for Ollivander to find his holly wand, and even though the comments he made about the wand were almost exactly the same, Harry managed to catch the wizened wizards mutters about his magic being 'unusually mature.'

Of the whole ordeal, this specific comment stuck within his mind all the way during super and later on as he was sorting out his purchases and packing them in his new trunk, and even later still as he prepared himself for bed and the upcoming day.

For if his magic was truly 'mature,' would he be able to use it without it being tracked? Or was the Trace placed upon his body? It was something that he would have to look into, and quick. It would solve too many problems not to consider at least trying.

-  
- o -  
-

It was before dawn when he woke up next, and this time it was a normal awakening. He luxuriated in the feeling of the comfy bed and stretched languidly in it before sitting up, knowing that he had a great many things to do and not that much time to do them.

A sense of adventure crept up on him and he felt his emotions respond to it; could feel his own eagerness at what awaited him. And having felt so apathetic before, these feelings were heartily welcomed; truly, he felt very much like the kid that he looked like, somewhat young in the face of the emotions that he was feeling. He felt more alive by the minute, his body moving comfortably even as the weight of reality began to rest lightly on his shoulders. He even risked changing his sight, the slim ring of black around his irises expanding, making his green eyes stand out even more, and focused on the state of this unstable world. He was astonished to see that all of his new possessions were almost completely solid, though everything else was still smoky, translucent and opaque.

He was quite happy to note that he, himself, wasn't as wobbly as the rest of his surroundings. But then, he had not really done much that would affect anyone but himself, and there he found the crux of the problem. If this reality were ever to become stable, others beside himself would need to be forced into making different decisions, into breaking away from being echoes themselves. For that is what this world, this reality was, an echo. Parallel Realities could only be formed by an amalgamation of different choices; and choices that influence more than one person, at that. It might not even take that much to get the ball rolling; just a few things that would stir the wizarding world into some sort of action. A slight nudging first before he truly poked the theoretical bee's hive.

Change, after all, could inevitable affect him as well, and he wanted to have a very long and sturdy stick before he went poking about and starting up trouble. What he should do, he wasn't sure, but he knew that sooner or later something would have to be done, so he resolved to start with small nudges that would not affect him directly, but still cause enough of a stir for change to start.

Suddenly, he knew just the thing to do, his face settling into determined lines.

Hopping out of the bed, he rummaged around for a change of clothes and his toiletries and started his day with a hot shower; having particular fun when he released the tiny tooth-fairies to do their work. He pushed all other thoughts out of his mind, though, and concentrated on what he needed to do today; feeling rather accomplished with what he had pulled thus far, but still aware that he wasn't out of the woods just yet.

It was still a probability that he'd be discovered, but as things stood, it was a somewhat distant one.

Grabbing one of his new self-inking quills and a small journal and putting them into his new satchel, he headed downstairs where an almost empty pub greeted him. Tom was behind the bar, probably getting ready for the day, so he made his way over the kindly wizard. "Good morning, Tom," he greeted cheerfully.

"G'mornin,' young master," the barkeep returned with a toothless grin, "and what might ye' be doin' up so early?" he asked.

"Ah, well," Harry started sheepishly as he settled into one of the stools, "I was a bit too excited about exploring the rest of the Alley to sleep anymore, so I decided to get started now that I was already up."

"I see," the older wizard nodded with a knowing glint in his eyes, "well, how about a spot of breakfast then?"

Harry simply nodded, asking for a full English breakfast, glad that Tom hadn't really asked his name, even after he signed the Inn's Register with an X. He kind of suspected that Tom already knew who he was, and if that was the case, he was even more thankful that the man seemed to be keeping his presence a secret. Then again, Tom could just as easily be buying into his story; that of him being a wizard that was being raised by muggles, with relatives that weren't exactly keen of being around magical folk, and who had a bit more freedom because of this than any eleven year old rightly should. Even if that eleven year old was a 'good lad.'

A glass of juice was swiftly placed in front of him, pulling him from his thoughts, followed by a heaping plate of food, which he eagerly tucked into, devouring it in record time, much to the barkeep's amusement. So it was with a full stomach, a charming grin and the help of a passing elderly witch that he made his way into Diagon Alley once more, his breakfast placed on his tab. He would have used his own wand, but the temptation to use it was already too great, especially when he could get a warning for underage magic.

He wanted to avoid those as much as possible, this time around.

Watching around, he found the view distinctly different, what with half the shops still closed, while most were just opening as the first rays of sunshine peeked out of the tallest buildings. Already knowing what he needed, he headed straight toward Gringotts once again; greeting the goblins in the entrance.

Sidling up to the first empty teller, he waited to be acknowledged, which didn't take quite as long as last time, "How can I help you, sir?"

"I would like to make a lengthy visit to my trust vault, sir," Harry piped up, as he presented the goblin with his key, "I want to know how much I have available so that I might make a budget for the next six years of my schooling."

Looking impressed, the old looking goblin examined the key carefully before peering back at him as he handed it back, "I see. Everything seems to be in order. I will have one of our assessors, Gornuk, accompany you to your vault; he should be able to help you in this endeavor."

More than pleased, Harry nodded, "Thank you, sir."

When his guide approached, he quickly recognizing the goblin as the one that had fled with Griphook, and he had to swiftly hide his surprise before it was spotted.

With a deep, "Follow me," the short goblin escorted him to his vault, though Harry swore that they took a whole different route to reach it this time. When the door was opened and they found themselves inside of the vault proper, the assessor turned towards him, "and how might I help you today, Mr. Potter?"

Plopping down on the stone floor, Harry pulled his satchel forward and took out his small journal and quill, "Well, I would like to know how much money I have and make a budget for the next six years. If I understand things right, I'll get the rest of what my parents left me when I turn seventeen, so I would have to reevaluate things after that. Still, what I have now is pretty much it, so I don't want to waste it."

Nodding in understanding, and looking somewhat impressed at this level of forethought, probably because he was, for all intents and purposes, still an eleven year old, the goblin gestured towards the journal, "And you wish to record this within that journal so that you might keep an account of your assets, correct?"

"Yes, sir," he nodded.

"Very well," he held out a long-fingered hand and Harry passed him the journal, intrigued when the goblin did a sort of wiggling gesture at the top of the small blank book before he pointed at the stack of coins. Immediately, the Galleons, Sickles and Knut's began to stack themselves in an orderly fashion, looking as if they were being counted. When everything settled, Gornuk handed him back the journal and Harry was surprised to find a series of systematic diagrams for the distribution of funds, deposits, withdrawals and the like.

And best of all, a detailed accounting of what he already had.

In no time, and finishing quicker that he had ever expected, the two set to work, separating the gold within his vault into different piles, even as he made annotations of the amounts, their intended uses and so on, on his journal. He quickly took out the gold that would pay for his tuition at Hogwarts, which was then placed in six orderly piles against the wall of the vault. A small allowance was left beside these as well, enough for Harry to buy his school supplies, books, clothes and other necessities each year. If he should somehow spend everything else, this assured him that school would at least be taken care of until the rest of his inheritance was available to him.

Still, this consumed more than half of his current assets, if not a bit more, without counting what he had already spent, that is, and what he still had in his money pouch for the purchases that he still had to make. After double checking his journal and jotting down how much he had left for each year, he noticed that all in all, his 'Hogwarts Gold' took about sixty percent of his funds. Of the remaining forty percent of his money, Harry put apart another ten percent; this time as a safety net should he need the gold because of unforeseen circumstances. The remaining thirty percent, well, Harry had plans for it, even if it wasn't all that much.

Turning toward Gornuk when they were done, he crossed his fingers and asked, "Excuse me, sir, would Gringotts be able to refer me to a good investor that works in both the magical and non-magical worlds? I would like to invest some of this," he gestured toward the biggest mound of coins, "and see if I can make a profit. That is, if it would be possible for me to hire an investor at all, what with being underage and everything."

Without even batting an eye, Gornuk simply nodded, "Of course, Mr. Potter. We could even establish an investment account within the muggle world, if you wish it. Age isn't really a concern for us, especially since this money was left to you to do as you willed with it."

Almost beaming at this news, Harry and Gornuk quickly ironed out the details, with Harry making a beginning deposit of half of his remaining gold, or fifteen percent of his small fortune, into a muggle investment account. A meeting with an investor was arranged for the next morning where they would go over the details, contracts and the like, with Gornuk helping Harry out for a small fee, which they had quickly agreed on.

Finally, after all his business with the bank was complete for the day, Harry set out to take care of the rest of his list, replenishing his money bag with the gold that he had set apart for his first year to buy a few more things and still have more than sufficient funds for the rest of the year, even as he took the rest of his summer into account.

He headed toward the Magical Instrument shop first, wanting to look around a bit, but found his attention attracted by the shop next to it instead, even as an idea flitted into his head. It was a small wizarding hairdressing shop, tucked cozily in between the Instrument store and a big blank building that seemed to house furniture and the like.

Poking his head curiously in, bells chiming with that action, Harry was quickly pulled in by a chipper middle-aged witch, "Come in, child, come in," she said, leading him into a seat and serving him some tea from a steaming kettle faster than he thought possible, "Now, what can I do for you, dear? Do you need a trim?" she asked, removing his pointy hat without his notice and tsk-ed at his hair as she ran her hands over it before he had a chance to blink, "Well, this does seem to need quite some work, doesn't it?" she asked, more to herself than to Harry, he finally noticed, "We could probably cut it a bit shorter so that it will at least stick up evenly, or maybe we could lengthen it to weigh it down," she clucked, moving his head every which way, humming, even as he tried to interrupt her. After all, his head wasn't an eight-ball damn it! "I have some potions that might do the trick as well, so what do you think, sweetheart?" she finally finished, directing her somewhat flighty attention from his hair to his face as he looked into one of the mirrors thoughtfully, intrigued by what she had said.

One of Harry's most difficult times at Hogwarts had been in Potions Class, what with Professor Snape's open dislike of his father. Seeing that he had looked like a miniature version of James Potter, the professor hadn't even given him a chance, immediately picking on him from the first day onwards. However, what if he didn't look exactly like his father at first glance? Would that give the greasy bat enough pause to at least hate him on his own merits and not those of James Potter? Looking at his reflection; his lack of glasses and his brilliant green eyes, he nodded, both to himself and the hairdresser. If it would give him at least a chance of Snape being civil, then he would try it.

"Could I have my hair lengthened, and maybe some subtle highlights placed on it?" he asked.

"Of course, pumpkin," the witch told him, clapping her hands before taking him (more like dragging) to one of the old-fashioned barber chairs that seemed to have mirrors floating about it on all sides, along with a few shelves of potions, salves and other goopy things. She sat him down and drew her wand, waving it toward the shelves and summoning a small vial of a periwinkle blue potion; a dose of hair-growing solution, "Now, my name is Elladora, sweetie, but you can call me Auntie if you want, everyone does," vial in hand, she quickly waved her wand over his hair, washing it with some unknown spell, which took a few minutes, before handing him the potion, "now drink this. It will make your hair grow. After that, we can see what length you want to leave it at and what kind of highlights you might want. We have some that come in patterns, or even glow in the dark; those are quite popular with the kids these days."

Somewhat amused by the chatty witch by now, Harry simply nodded and gulped the concoction down, startled when his hair started growing immediately and extremely fast, reaching the floor in mere moments.

He looked like cousin It, really.

But then, it was just a matter of cutting it to shoulder length at the back so he could tie it in a short tail while leaving his bangs to fall in longer strands across his face, neatly covering his scar. He was sure that Ella, as the ditzy witch wanted him to call her next, had already noticed his scar, but she had shown no reaction to it, not that his forehead was completely visible, mind.

After that, the red highlights were added by a combination of potions, and as he looked in the mirror, green, wide eyes staring back at him, longish hair falling across his thin face and a few auburn highlights that shifted around his head so that they could only be seen under a certain light; specifically that of firelight, which was predominant in Hogwarts, he saw more of his mother in his appearance than ever before. So much so, that someone would have to look pretty far to match him with his father at all.

The fact that his hair was behaving at all was also a small miracle.

Knowing just what Snape's _Patronus_ was, as well as his history, well, he hoped that he would see Lily instead of James. He could not really predict the man's reaction but he hoped that it would be a favorable one, or at least better than outright disdain. If not, he bought a counter-potion for the highlights, just in case.

Waving goodbye at the hairdresser, and beginning to have an inkling as to why no one seemed to recognize him as Harry Potter, he slipped into the shop next door and started looking around at all the gleaming magical instruments. It took him quite awhile to browse everything and even then, when the shopkeeper, an elegant wizard named Timothy, had come to offer his help, he had been drawn into a short lesson about each of the major types of instruments and their magic. Not only because some specific instruments were enchanted to procure certain effects, such as call for rain, or making certain plants grow, or even expelling certain pests when a particular song was played, but because, as the keeper explained, there was a very subtle type of magic in music, and many of the strongest enchantments could be weaved with its help.

With his interest peeked more than he thought possible, he soon learned quite a bit about this kind of magic, and bought his very own instrument; A Magical Flute. He was told that it was a good instrument to start with, seeing that it was one of the oldest ones known in the world. Not only that, but the fact that it was fairly easy to learn made it that much better; especially with the half a dozen books that helped teach you how to use it added into the mix. Purchasing a book on how to read and write music, as well as a few very simple enchanting scores, Harry felt confident enough on learning his new instrument, or at least starting to learn it.

The flute itself wasn't enchanted for a specific purpose, but it was magical in the way that it allowed to user to both channel magic through it and switch the type of flute being used; for there were a great many types of flutes out there. It could change from a simple tin whistle to a recorder, or a concert flute; from a straight flute to a side-blown flute, which provided the flautist with every variety of the instrument to play. There was even what the shopkeeper called a blank-flute within the enchantments, that would slowly transform as the flute player developed and more magic was channeled into the instrument; this particular flute would grow to match the musical enchanter as if it had been custom made for him or her.

It was not too costly either, which surprised him, but he was told that while very beautiful and a good starting magical instrument, the enchantments that could be weaved with a flute were not that powerful, but more subtle and detailed specific. Most of the shopkeeper's income, he was told, came from the bigger, more resonating instruments, and though they lacked the delicacy of the flute, many of the greatest and most powerful enchantments were done with these, such as some of the protections of Hogwarts.

Still, he was happy with his purchase and couldn't wait to start learning how to play it, and maybe even try that small enchantment that created illusionary animals; a good basic piece of musical magic, Timothy told him, to start with. The best part, though, was that he could practice it during the summer, which was sure to keep him occupied. It seemed that the simple practice enchantments were so subtle that they went undetected by the Ministry, though you still had to be careful around muggles.

The possibilities of this kept his mind more than slightly occupied, since it would allow him to learn it during the summer, thus keeping him at least entertained.

Heading toward the Leaky Cauldron for lunch, he asked Tom for a Floo directory and settled down into a small booth to wait for his meal. He put down the case with his new flute and his satchel and began browsing the thick tomb; after all, he would need to leave tomorrow and he had to prepare for it.

If he stayed any longer than what he was already staying, people would start getting suspicious and he really didn't want that or his fake story to be double checked, at that. However, it was not until he was more than halfway into the directory, his lunch already finished and his stomach pleasantly full, that he found it. It was a small Inn located on the edge of Wimborne Minster; a small town on the southern coast of England and the home of the Wimborne Wasps Quidditch team.

He quickly jotted down both the Floo address and the real address on the back of his small journal, and headed to his room to drop off his flute and promptly head out once more. This time in the direction of the post office, where he dashed a quick letter in the name of his supposed guardians, asking the old wizarding couple that ran the small Inn if they would be able to take Harry in until he left for Hogwarts or until their 'family emergency' was resolved. Either way, he quickly arranged for a postbox as well, this time in the name of his guardians, just to be safe.

However, after all of this was done and with the postbox created, a thought occurred to him, especially after he found out that the post office could send mail received during a certain period and forward it through the muggle mail, something that helped immensely when muggleborns or their parents didn't want owls swooping around their house. Now that he had made a box in the name of the Dursley's and himself he wrote another letter to Hogwarts, asking for his ticket to the Hogwarts Express, since it hadn't come with his letter and he knew that he needed it for the first time he crossed the barrier entrance of platform Nine and Three Quarters.

Should McGonagall or anyone in the magical world send mail to either the Dursley's or him, it would be redirected to the postbox and forwarded to them by muggle means without a change of address to the letters. Or at least, that was what was supposed to happen. Harry had instead asked for the procedure to be bypassed and the mail sent his way, so that 'there weren't any dangerous things sent to his relatives through magical post,' which the young clerk quickly believed.

Of course, he would need to update where he could be found every time he moved around, but that was something he was willing to deal with.

It gave him a foolproof way to avoid being found out outside of the Dursley's care though owl-post, that's for sure, though there were a few drawbacks as well, though those were negligible in comparison.

When the letters were sent and everything else was arranged, he headed out, this time headed towards _Doohickey's and Thingamabobs_, a rather cozy shop that hosted all kinds of different wizarding gadgets and gizmos. There were anything from enchanted mirrors to magical socks, or even foe glasses and the like.

A wizened old wizard, stooped with age, with a bald crown and strange orange but lively eyes greeted him after a few moments, "Good afternoon, laddie, is there anything that I can help you with?"

Shaking his head Harry greeted the old man as well, "Good afternoon, sir. I just want to look around, if that's alright? It looked like there were a lot of interesting things in here."

Chuckling, the old wizard nodded, "Aye, lad, that there are. And no, I don't mind, feel free to look around and give me a call if you need me, ey? Me names Albert Grey, at yer service."

"Thank you, sir," he said, a grin blooming in his face at being able to explore the interesting shop without problems, even Timothy at the Instrument store hadn't let him touch any of them, and then, he would only let him see them while he was hanging over his shoulder, maybe so he wouldn't breathe too close to them.

He had a blast tinkering with everything and Mr. Grey even showed him how to work anything that he couldn't make heads or tails out of. There were Omnioculars, Two-way Mirrors, Sneakoscopes and he even spotted a few kinds of Remembralls as well; some of which actually told you what you've forgotten.

He was highly amused to find that one of the Headmasters twirling trinkets was solely made with the purpose of informing a wizard of different candies, sweets and desserts that he or she would enjoy. Others, like one that puffed little clouds of smoke, was actually used to tell the temperature of a room by the color and frequency of the smoke; if one were knowledgeable enough to interpret the things, Mr. Grey told him that you might even get an idea of the coming weather up to one month in advanced.

He spent hours in the little shop with no one else coming in for quite awhile.

As he was perusing the different kinds of watches, however, the bell at the entrance ringed, admitting a boy not much older than he looked to be, "Oi! Mr. G, where are ya?"

"I'm by the counter, brat, same as every other time," Mr. Grey said from his place, which was in plain view of the door.

"Right, sorry," the boy said, not looking sorry at all. And as he shut the door behind him and entered the shop, Harry felt a small amount of recognition; if he was right, this was one of his year mates, a future Ravenclaw, at that. But for the life of him he couldn't put a name to him.

He had straight, chestnut colored hair and a wiry build, but not stringy, like that Slytherin kid, Nott. His face was set into an impish expression as he made his way to the counter, handing old Mr. Grey a small envelope, "And what's this, lad?"

"Ma sent you that, Mr. G. If she wasn't lying to me, it says that you have to take me shopping for my school supplies, 'coz she's busy today and I just got my letter, and I've been driving her batty because of it," came the fast, rambling reply as the boy got more and more wound up.

"Fine, fine, but I have a costumer right now, as you can see," Harry was pointed out, even as a wand appeared on the old man's hand and the sign on the door turned from 'Open' to 'Closed,' with the blinds shuttered down.

"Really, where?" the boy looked around, spotting him after a moment, "oh."

Taking the two watches that he had found over to the counter, he handed them to Mr. Grey, "Hi," he greeted the other boy, noticing the same orange eyes than those of the shopkeeper, though they were darker than the older man, maybe they were related? Turning toward the wizened wizard, he spoke up, uncertain, "Sorry if I'm interrupting, sir, I can come again later of you're going to be busy."

Waving his hand, the mad dismissed his words, "Don't worry, Lad, Kevin here can sit for a little while you finish."

"Yeah," Kevin said, not put down at all by having to wait, "I don't mind, that is, if you let me play around with the flying marbles for a bit," his tone of voice was both excited and pleading, as if this was not something that he got to do very often, though it made the possibility of the two being somewhat related more plausible.

Scratching his head, Mr. Grey seemed to think about it before nodding, "I don't see how'd that be a problem. That is, if our costumer doesn't mind?"'

"Oh! You won't mind, will you?" Kevin asked him, talking to him as if they had know each other for years, "I don't usually get to use them, since most costumers get annoyed by them, but you won't mind, right?"

Slightly bemused, Harry only shook his head, and just like that the other boy had dashed behind the counter to pull out a shuddering velvet bag. Looking over toward the boys grandfather, or so he assumed, he saw the old man shoot him a wait-and-see look, a patient expression on his face. However, it wasn't long before multiple colored marbles of all sizes starting zooming around the room, amazingly not crashing into anything. Kevin, an eager look on his face, took out a silver marble that had stayed in the pouch before placing the small bag on the floor, taking aim and flicking the silver marble out, which almost hit one of the bigger marbles that was flying close.

After failing, the silver marble swerved and landed on Kevin's outstretched hand, where he was sitting cross-legged on the floor; he noticed that all the marbles stayed in front of him, which probably had to do with the velvet bag and its placement.

"The object of the game is to hit the marbles in a pattern," Mr. Grey explained, "and once the pattern is complete, those marbles will fall and roll back into the pouch. The thing is you need to figure out the pattern first since it changes every time you open the pouch. If you hit a marble out of the pattern they do one of three things, they either divide into smaller marbles, fly faster or purposely start attacking the other marbles, which in itself makes the marbles react in different ways," he chuckled as Kevin flicked the silver one deftly and it caught a blue and yellow pinstriped marble, making it fall to the floor, "if you fail hitting one of the marbles in the pattern after you've hit a few, the marbles on the floor merge together to form different marbles before flying off again."

"Wow, that sounds complicated," he remarked, amazed when Kevin hit a small solid blue marble next.

"Nah, you get the hang of it pretty quickly, but there are ways of making it either easier or more difficult, and the more people that play and the more marbles in the game, the more fun it is," but didn't say anything more on the matter as he drew Harry's attention toward the counter, "Now, I see that you found a couple of watches," he commented, and soon drew Harry into an explanation of them and the enchantments they had. It took a few minutes, but he finally decided on getting the wristwatch that he could program his class schedule into, though he figured that he could program any schedule into it, and not just the schools. As it was, it not only told time, but it helped manage it as well, which was a pretty clever thing, in his opinion. It also had the usual water resistant and unbreakable charms on it as well.

Before paying for it, though, he got one final item that had caught his attention during his rounds around the shop, dodging around the flying marbles, even if they swerved out of his way anyways. It was a small black bowl with odd runes carved into the edges and sides. He figured that it would fit into an adult's hand, given its size, though as things stood he needed both hands to hold it. It was a bit on the heavy side, after all.

Mr. Grey told him that it was a Pensift, the little brother of the Pensieve. It was not made to store memories, like its big brother, but only to view them, and even then, it only allowed one memory to be viewed at a time; though it didn't matter how long it was as long as it was a single strand of memory. It didn't take too much more for him to purchase it as well, knowing that he would be able to find a use for it, especially with some of the plans he had in mind.

Though he had to give the shopkeeper the excuse that it would be the perfect gift for his godfather to actually explain this purchase; after all, why would an eleven year old want to review memories?

Waving goodbye at Kevin and Mr. Grey he stopped quickly at the post office, where he picked up a response for his letter to the small Inn, putting it in his pocket for now and heading toward his final stop on his list, The Owl Emporium.

It took him some twenty minutes, along with a lot of arguing with the attendant for Hedwig to be unearthed from a corner of the shop. She was slightly smaller than he remembered her being, but her amber eyes looked just as intelligent as ever. The grin never left his face even at the grumbling attendant's attitude as supplies and owl treats were added to the tally; after all, it was not his fault that the idiot couldn't tell the difference between a female snowy and a male, or that he had wanted a purely white snowy at that, and not the big cranky spotted snowy that the idiotic clerk wanted to sell him.

Still, he was too stubborn to be swayed, and stood his ground until he had his old friend back, finding something wrong with all other owls until he found her.

He went back to his room with a grin still on his face, chattering to Hedwig all the way, who seemed to preen at the attention he gave her. Tom was particularly amused when he crossed the pub and Harry waved at him, making Hedwig turn toward the kindly wizard as well while shaking her right wing in the barkeeps direction, as if she were waving like her new master had.

His grin only became bigger when he opened the letter back in his room, having situated Hedwig on her new perch, and found out that 'of course the poor dear can stay here, we will be sure to take care of him,' along with other assurances and arrangements for his stay. He would have to write a letter back, true, but for now, he was just happy talking with his old friend again, even if she wasn't the same as in his memories.

Had he looked at himself though his alternate sight, he would not have seen a trace of the echo that he was, but a solid, stable eleven year old boy; Even if said boy, with his young body, did have a somewhat older soul.

* * *

_**To be continued…**_


	2. Unsteady Reality: Ripples

_**Disclaimer:**_ Characters from the _Harry Potter_ series are the property of J.K. Rowling and various publishers: including but not limited to Bloomsbury, Scholastic and Warner Brothers. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended by the writing of this story.

* * *

Year One  
**Unsteady Reality  
**-+-  
Chapter Two  
**Ripples**

* * *

It didn't take a great deal of effort on Harry's part to make his way to the cozy little Inn where he would be staying. After checking out of the Leaky Cauldron, while making sure to thank Tom for the room, he just had to walk a ways away, no more than a block or two, and wave down the Knight Bus in all of its violently purple, three-decker glory.

Oh, it was a bumpy ride, like always, with the armchairs that replaced the four-posters during the day sliding every which way, but it had suited Harry just fine. Smiling as shyly as he could, he simply paid for the ride and quietly gave the address of the Inn in Wimborne and he was set.

No suspicions, no recognition, nothing.

Stan didn't even ask his name, though he seemed somewhat curious all the same. All in all, Harry was quite happy with the whole thing, and quite proud of his sneakiness, as well.

The Inn itself was a big farmhouse turned into a bed and breakfast kind of place; it was very hospitable looking and rather welcoming as well. Mrs. Dante, a plump, elderly witch of at least one hundred, with salt and pepper hair and a kind disposition greeted him warmly at the door, probably being alerted of his presence by the racket that the Bus made when arriving and departing.

He was immediately led to a roomy dining area, with a long table that could easily sit twenty people, and told to eat up, what with it being lunch time and everything. "Mr. Dante is giving your room a last look-over, dear, and our elf will take your trunk up while you eat. If you need anything, anything at all, you just need to ask. After all, we promised your guardians to look after you," Mrs. Dante told him as he sat down; fussing a bit over him until the food appeared on the table; and he had to admit, the spread looked delicious.

"Is there anyone else in the Inn, Mrs. Dante?" he asked, serving himself, even as he looked around everywhere he could, craning his neck and being as rude and curious as an eleven year old was supposed to be. There didn't look to be anyone else as far as he could see, but it was summertime and he doubted that he was the only one there.

"Oh yes, dear," the old lady answered from where she was pouring herself a cup of tea, "We have two couples staying with us for the next few days, and another young man, who I think is aiming to play for the Wasps, is staying until his tryouts are finished."

Well, that helped quite a bit actually. Still, he needed to use his time wisely and without arousing suspicious. He was glad, however, that the kind old witch was rather chatty as she sat opposite him with her cup of tea, "The poor dear has been put through his paces, I've heard, and he only comes by at night, dead tired. It's awful, really, they should give him a bit more time to rest, but then, he looks so excited to go each and every day, even after he comes dragging his feet at night, droopy-eyed and completely knackered and I haven't the heart to speak up."

Harry was quite intrigued by this and hoped that he'd be able to talk to the Quidditch player, "What position is he trying out for then? He must be really good if they're working him so hard, right? Do you think he might teach me how o fly a broom? I haven't really learned how to fly yet, but it would be brilliant to learn and do all those wicked tricks!" And though he was rather interested about it, he deliberately added more questions and more excitement to his tone that he would have usually used, taking a leaf out of Kevin's book. He might not be eleven, but it would be best if he acted like it while he was here.

At least for now.

Hogwarts would be a different story, though. He would need to be himself there or risk being caught in a web of lies. But then, the attention he would receive at the school because of his knowledge and manner would be almost inevitable to avoid. He would probably be labeled as a prodigy or something of the sort, and truthfully, he didn't mind. In fact, he looked forward to it slightly. If the teachers realized that he 'learned' the material at an abnormally fast pace, maybe he wouldn't have to suffer through seven years of schooling again. It was bad enough that he took the classes once; he wasn't planning on doing it all over again. Not if he could help it, at least.

However, while he would be Harry Potter at Hogwarts, and indeed, his supposed brilliance would just add fuel to his legend, he wasn't Harry Potter at the moment, and he wanted to call the least amount of attention to himself as possible. And if that meant acting more like an eleven year old around the Dante's, well, so be it.

So he chattered on with Mrs. Dante, who was more than happy to talk to him. She told him of all the sights that he might be able to visit in and around Wimborne, along with any number of idle gossips about those staying in the Inn at the moment. Nothing malicious, of course. She didn't seem to be that kind of person, but she delighted in telling him just how wonderful they were and how much they enjoyed visiting this and that, what with both couples being there to sightsee. Not to mention the many anecdotes of previous patrons and so on.

If nothing else, Mrs. Dante was a wonderful storyteller.

When lunch was done, though, and Harry finally allowed his tiredness to catch up with him, Mr. Dante, a rather tall and distinguished looking wizard with a stern air about him, showed him to his room, telling him about the few rules that he was expected to follow; times for meals, telling them if he ever needed anything or if he was going out to do anything and so on; Nothing unreasonable, really, but things that restricted his movements all the same.

He wasn't put out by it though, as he really hadn't expected anything less, but it did make things a little harder for him. After all, he needed to visit Hogsmeade one of these days, if it was at all possible, so he would see about worming himself into their good graces just in case he was stuck with them for more time than planned. That way, if he was staying in the Inn for the rest of the summer, he could see if they would help him in that endeavor instead of hinder him.

It was a small goal to accomplish at least.

Thanking Mr. Dante profusely upon seeing his room, which was at least twice as big as the one he had in the Leaky Cauldron and far more welcoming, what with its crème colors and light furniture, Harry neatly flopped himself onto the bed, earning himself an amused smile out of the old man. Grinning back, he quickly jumped to his feet again and opened his trunk, smiling as the old wizard came closer to look it over.

To say that he was impressed with it would be lying, especially when Hedwig's perch popped up from the top. He immediately made sure to settle his friend comfortably at once, and poured some water and food into their little containers, earning a grateful hoot from the snowy owl. The next few minutes were spent telling Mr. Dante about the other features of his trunk, in a very eager tone, of course, and showing him the shelving compartment as he snatched out the book on how to play the flute; the middle compartment when he took out the flute itself, and well, the chest of drawers spoke for itself, especially after they started moving about when he was looking for his pajamas for later.

"A rather impressive purchase, to be sure," Mr. Dante commented, "I wish there had been one of these when I went to Hogwarts, myself, I can tell you that." Still, what surprised him more than anything was what the old wizard told him as he was making his way out of the room, "And if you're learning to play that flute, lad," the old man signaled toward the book he was leafing through, "You might want to ask Elisabeth; My wife," he elaborated at his confused look, "she's a rather proficient player herself, so she could give you a few pointers. After that, well, she might know someone who could teach you."

"Really?" he said, rather excited by the prospect of finding someone to teach him, "Thanks Mr. Dante!"

The old wizard just nodded and headed out, leaving him to flop happily back into his bed. Okay, so maybe acting like an eleven year old wouldn't be as hard as he thought, pulling his book closer to start reading, even if his mind was not exactly all there.

After all, while learning to play the flute would probably help keep him entertained, there were still a few things that he had set in motion that should bear fruit soon, or at least he hoped that was the case. Even if the Dante's and their Inn was everything he had been hoping for, it was still several days before his birthday, and thus, more than a month before Hogwarts.

He didn't want to spend all of that time here, that's for sure; it would be difficult enough to start influencing change, he didn't need to make it more so by doing it where he could be discovered. Bees, after all, had a nasty habit of finding the people poking at their hive, stick or no, when they were close enough to be seen.

And they were usually rather unhappy to be poked, he was sure.

-  
- o -  
-

Things settled rather rapidly after that first day, and the rest of his stay passed calmly and unremarkably, even his birthday, which he didn't mention to the old innkeepers less he might somehow be linked to Harry Potter. It was better to be paranoid than be caught, after all. On another note, though, Elisabeth Dante turned out to be a very patient teacher even though she liked playing the piano best, and not to forget that she was right helpful while he was learning to read the music as well.

One of the couples staying at the Inn left shortly after he arrived, and a few more people came and registered, some for a night, others for more. To tell the truth, he didn't really pay that much attention to the comings and goings, keeping mostly to himself and only really interacting with the Dante's.

He didn't even catch a glimpse of the Quidditch player, but then, he was too engrossed with his studies to even remember him, so it wasn't that big of a loss.

As things stood, apart from learning the flute, he was re-reading some of his first year text books, which he found surprisingly more informative than before, and markedly easier to understand, but then, that could be attributed to the fact that the first time he read them he had only skimmed them to search for the information he needed and nothing more, and that the books themselves were made for the understanding of eleven year olds, which he was not. Then again, he didn't really read more than was needed unless Hermione was pestering him. This time, though, since he was really paying attention, a lot of things they explained became clearer and he learned more than a couple of facts that he hadn't even thought of before.

Especially when it came to transfiguration and potions.

He didn't dare practice his wand work, of course, since he wasn't quite sure about it or the Trace, so he decided to use his time exploring the town and just aimlessly walking about. It was both relaxing and somewhat soothing. A rather violent change of pace from a war, but then, maybe that was just what he needed. Besides, he found quite a few interesting places where he hung out from time to time, always keeping in mind to not worry his current caretakers. The last thing he wanted was for them to worry and do something drastic, after all.

So he kept his head down and his nose clean, as they say.

It was almost a week after his birthday that he received the owl that he had been waiting for, and it lifted quite a weight from his shoulders. Two weeks was alright for a family emergency, but Harry didn't really want to push it. The Dante's hadn't really asked about it directly, but they had been sending owls to his supposed guardians every few days, which were, of course, delivered to him later on because of the drop-box.

They were getting worried, though, even if they said in their letters that he was a wonderful child. In short, they were starting to wonder and starting to question, and that was never a good thing when you wanted to remain unnoticed. So when Gornuk finally sent him an owl, he was more than slightly relieved.

It was short, but really, it didn't need any more information:

_Mr. H. Potter_

_Your requests have been fulfilled.  
We shall meet in two days time on  
#3 Remembrance Road, Norfolk._

_Gornuk_

And so, with a lighter heart than before Harry set everything into motion, writing the letters he would need and sending them off as soon as he could; one confirming the day with the Goblin and another to be mailed to the Dante's, stating that his 'guardians' would be returning home in two days time, and to please send him on the Knight Bus to meet them, adding the payment for his stay and a more than generous tip, just to be safe.

He made sure to follow the same tone as the other letters he had sent the Dante's, along with enough vague information on the resolution of the family emergency to appease their curiosities. Really, it was amazing what people would believe when you tell them things in just the right way.

That day, Harry didn't pack or do anything out of the ordinary, he simply continued reading, exploring and learning to play the flute, which he was still horrible with, being a beginner and all. Thankfully, though, he was starting to get the hang of it and he could at least string a few notes together without messing up, which he thought was rather brilliant, all things considered.

However, it wasn't until the day after next that Elisabeth told him that his 'Guardians' had sent him a letter and told him to pack up that night, since he would be leaving the next day. She had a sad expression on her face as she told him this and Harry felt a pang of remorse at having to lie to her, especially by explaining the family emergency as his grandparents being in an accident and finally passing away recently.

It wasn't original, true, but it was a classic story and one that people could relate to.

"Now, dear, do you have everything packed?" Mrs. Dante asked him as they were headed towards the door, his trunk floating neatly behind them.

"Yes, ma'am, I double-checked everything again this morning."

"Good lad," Mr. Dante nodded as he turned to them from where he stood, upon the threshold of the front door, "Now, did your family give you the address that you are to meet them at?"

"Yes, sir," he patted his pocket, "I have it right here, along with enough change to pay for the bus." He was sure to smile convincingly at that, adding a touch of pride to his tone as well. He was supposed to be a thoughtful young boy, after all.

"Well, off you go then dear, have a safe trip," Mrs. Dante said, handing him a folded paper bag, "here are some biscuits I baked for your journey, since I know you didn't have any pudding."

"Oh! Thanks Mrs. Dante! And thank you for everything else as well; I really appreciate all the help you've given me with my flute!" He said, beaming.

"It's no trouble at all, dear, and you've learned exceptionally fast. I bet you'll have a decent score going by the end of the summer, though practice is a must."

"Of course, I'll keep at it and see about getting myself a teacher. Hopefully I'll be able to find someone close to home," he chattered on, "if not, do you think Ms. Dionard, that's her name right? Will be able to teach me the rest of the summer?"

"We'll just have to see, won't we?" Mrs. Dante teasingly asked, "I'll send her an owl and see what she says, like I promised, and I'll let you know as soon as I can, how's that?"

"That'd be brilliant, ma'am! Thanks!"

_"Ahem_," Mr. Dante cleared his throat, a smile twisting at his lips, "I think that its time for the lad to get going, right, Elisabeth?"

Checking on her watch, the old witch gave a start, "Dear me, your right, your Aunt will worry if we delay you any longer," and with that, they ushered him out into the drive and hailed down the Knight Bus before turning toward him and quick hug, "Now, you be good, dear. Try and visit sometime, you hear?"

"Yes, Ma'am!" he chirped, shaking hands with Mr. Dante and then heading up into the Bus, waving at the elderly couple until he was hurtled across the floor by the triple-decker departing with a _Bang_.

_Well_, he thought with a smile as he tried to straighten himself up, _that couldn't have gone any better, if I do say so myself_.

Finally picking himself up, he quickly told the address to Stan, giving the same fake name that he'd been using when he was asked and unsteadily made his way toward an armchair, which was not exactly easy to catch.

His thoughts drifted though, as passenger after passenger either boarded or got off of the bus. There were quite a few witches and wizards around, but most of them unloaded either at the Leaky Cauldron, the Ministry, or like a mother and her son, whose arms were growing teeth, to St. Mungo's.

By the time the Bus turned toward Norfolk it was almost empty, which suited him just fine. As things stood, and as he checked with his Dimensional Sight, as he liked to call it, he was still the only thing that looked solid. True, he had made a small impact in the Dante's and their Inn, but nothing that would last for long. He had three weeks left before Hogwarts started or thereabouts, and he had a great many ideas of what actions he could take jotted down in one of his three journals.

The third small journal, however, was filled with facts. Things he knew had happened and things he knew that were going to happen. This last, though, was divided further into events that he could change and influence, and those he could not. It had taken him quite a bit of time of shifting though his memories, one at a time, in his new Pensift. But it was worth it. He had been able to get dates or approximate times of most of the events of his six years at Hogwarts, and one year on the run, allowing him to compile a sort of timeline.

True, he hadn't gone over every single one of his memories, just the important ones, and even then, just the ones that stuck out in his own mind. He had, however, taken special interest in searching for his memories of various breakfasts at the Dursley's, and most importantly, those where his Uncle Vernon was reading the paper.

It was truly remarkable, the things that your subconsciously registered in a memory, but what Harry was most interested in was the information that he could find there; especially in the economic section of the newspaper.

He had quite a few pages of his journal filled with potential investments, though there were a few highlighted that he had already started with. As things stood, while he didn't have a fortune at his disposal, he did have enough money that with the right investments, some good management and just a bit of patience, he would be able to make himself one.

However, he wasn't doing this for the money, though it certainly didn't hurt him, but more because by investing wisely he would be able to affect the economic world enough to cause ripples, and ripples caused change. Change being, after all, his ultimate goal. It would take time, true, maybe a year or two for the ripples made by his investments to truly affect more than his vault, but it was worth a try, especially with a few ideas he had that would speed some companies along. So he spent some time every day looking at the memories and looking for information that could help him.

He had, after all, a long way to go.

Not to mention that while change in the Muggle World was one of his long term goals, it was the Magical World that filled his short-term plans. Yes, _plans_. He had more than one of them up his sleeve; some of them sneaky enough to make a Slytherin green with envy, he was sure. But then, they do say that hindsight was twenty-twenty, didn't they?

And as the Knight Bus finally neared Norfolk, after more time then he could remember ever spending on it, and it came to a sudden stop, Harry was more than ready to start on one of those plans as soon as possible. After all, there was much for him to do; so very much.

"Number Three Remembrance Road, Norfolk," Stanyelled from the front of the Bus and Harry quickly made his way out, his trunk being placed beside him and goodbye's being exchanged before the Bus disappeared from sight.

It took him more than a second or two to get his legs to stop wobbling, though.

Looking around, Harry could easily see that he was in the middle of nowhere. He was standing on an overgrown dirt road that vanished to his right and out of sight. To his left there was nothing but trees and fields, and really, nothing but wilderness and open spaces. Right in front of him, though, the road curbed into the driveway, if you could call it that, of a small cottage; a cottage that wasn't really much to look at.

_At all_.

The thatched roof was in disrepair, the paint was chipping, the gardens were overgrown just like the street and some of the windows were cracked. The front door looked to be sagging in its cast-iron hinges, and Harry could swear that the chimney was looking at him.

Or maybe it was just falling?

Whatever the case, it didn't look pretty.

"Does it meet your expectations, Mr. Potter?" Gornuk's voice came suddenly from beside him. No greetings were necessary and nothing more needed to be said, even if it would sound rude to others. This was business, plain and simple.

"It looks perfect," and really, for what he needed it, it did, "But tell me Gornuk, is it known?" And this was the most important part of it. If the house or property was known and someone stumbled upon it, or came to visit it only to find him, it could be disastrous. So he had asked for a forgotten property and given a set of minimum requirement. And as he walked up the driveway pulling his trunk along as they made their way up toward the run-down cottage while trying to take it all in at once, well, it sure did look like it met them.

The minimum, that is.

"It has been forgotten, Mr. Potter, and I have made sure that it stays that way."

"Good, but how are the surroundings?" he asked.

"The property comes with nearly fifteen square miles of surrounding lands, and then, the closest inhabitants live a few miles down the road. The muggle town of Narborough is some seven miles away from the edges of the property, and indeed, you could probably buy the rest of the magical owned land without much trouble seeing as it is all extremely low-priced. As is, the family that owned this particular terrain died out some time ago. However, the muggle-repelling charms are still in place, so they have no idea that such a big stretch of land is quite as close as it is."

"That sounds about right," he commented, pushing the door open after turning the huge cast-iron key that the goblin had handed him. The insides were as run down as the outside, but still livable. It actually reminded him of Grimmauld Place, just without the dreary, oppressing feeling of the Black House. There was dust everywhere, a hole on the thatched roof and a small spot of rotted wood beneath that hole, but that was the most obvious of the damage. A true fixer-upper if he had ever seen one.

He didn't find any sign of nasty critters though, and he supposed that he'd have to thank the Goblin for that as well.

"The last wizard to inhabit this dwelling died some ten years ago and it has fallen, along with the surroundings, into disrepair," Gornuk continued after Harry had set down his trunk and started looking around, curious, "It has two bedrooms, a bathroom and a kitchen, and we are currently standing in the dining and living rooms. There is a ladder from the second room into a small attic, and an entrance to a cellar outside of the kitchen."

"Good, and how about the rest of the land, anything special around?" Harry asked while peeking his head into the bedrooms, one of which was fairly large, and poking about the ladder to the attic that was located in the second one. Truthfully, he would need to replace that; he didn't want to break his neck when the ladder broke under his feet.

"Yes, Mr. Potter, there is a small fen that crosses through the northwestern corner of the property, within the woods. There are some herb gardens and fields and such that have overgrown, and another small lake just at the edge of the property itself, along the southern edge, which is where the Walton family cottage resides, which while in not quite the state as this one, is the only other wizarding property in the area. I am still making inquiries to buy it from them, since the only daughter of that family does not actually use the property."

Personally, Harry liked it, more for the location than anything else. It was isolated from the outside by woods, while fields spread far and wide to the south of the property. He could bet that potion ingredients where once grown on those fields as well, in addition to the woods, but he wasn't sure. He would have to check that out.

Smiling after coming from the cellar out back, which was rather humid, he found Gornuk waiting for him, "Like I said, its perfect, so I'll take it," he said, nodding decisively. It wouldn't be finished this summer, but it could be finished by the next, if he hired the right people. Besides, it would be his first home and while it wasn't much, apart from the huge amounts of land, which had come cheaper than he could ever imagine, it certainly gave him room to grow. He could make something of the Potter name, and who knows, maybe he would be able to build some grand manor house someday!

He laughed at himself for a bit, feeling more than happy with his decisions, "Very well, Mr. Potter, if you will just sign these?"

And as he flipped through the documents, using the top of his trunk as a table, he began to make a mental list of the things he would need first and foremost, which included furniture and food, to name a few. He signed where he needed and made sure to understand everything before he did so, feeling more and more satisfied as he went on.

Still, it was as he was signing the next to last papers that an idea occurred to him, "Gornuk, tell me, where would I be able to hire myself a House Elf?"

"Hire, Mr. Potter? There are a few places where you might be able to _buy_ a House Elf, but never hire."

"Ah, well, where could I buy one, then?" he asked, somewhat uncomfortable with the idea of buying an elf, "And how much would one cost?"

"There is a rather highly regarded place in Hogsmeade, which I seem to remember you wanting to visit sometimes soon, and as for the price, that varies depending on what you want your elf to be capable of; Cook? Clean? Garden? That sort of thing. However, a basically trained elf is still rather expensive."

Weary, Harry handed the signed documents to the goblin, just imagining how expensive a house elf could be. Still, asking wasn't worth anything, and an elf would be extremely useful to him in the future. If nothing else, he could always wait until later, a year or two, and hire Dobby, but again, that was two years away. Could he afford not to have such help? So he asked, "And just how much are we talking about here, Gornuk?

"Let me put it this way, Mr. Potter. From your available funds, which are about thirty percent of your current gold, you would need a third to buy yourself a basically trained elf. The price after that begins to rise, should you require the elf to have different skills."

Shocked, Harry almost sat down on the dusty floor. Almost a third of all his available money? Bloody hell! And to think, he had already converted fifteen percent of his available thirty into an investment account. That would only leave him with five percent, and he would still need to hire a few enchanters to protect his new property, not to mention the cost of the property itself, and what repairing it will cost.

He didn't have that sort of money.

At least, not at the moment. And the investments he was entering in wouldn't see any profit for a year at most, Christmas at the soonest. He had enough gold on him for food and necessities for this summer, with a bit more for the school year. But how about the rest? Quickly, he looked for his journals, or should he start calling the one with money matters a ledger? He didn't know, and really, he didn't care at the moment.

Sitting on the dusty floor at last, he began crunching numbers, asking the goblin for prices and ideas, as well as how his first investments were doing.

Luckily, he had already paid the goblin for his assistance until Hogwarts started, and though it didn't come cheaply, he knew that the investment manager wouldn't have taken him seriously without Gornuk there to smooth things out. Not to mention the fact that the assessor had been able to find him the property in which they were standing at that very moment.

That, if anything, was a good investment in his mind, especially since he was supposed to be only an eleven year old kid with no prior knowledge of magic.

However, upon seeing the disrepair in which the house was, the idea of finding a House Elf to help him in fixing it was rather easy to come by. And while he was sure that he could do it himself, it would take him too long, especially without the ability to do magic. Still, as he checked his books he saw a way to make it happen. If he dipped into his emergency funds and scrapped everything else together, he would just be able to pull through.

True, he wouldn't have anything left after all was said and done, save for a little emergency gold and his untouchable Hogwarts funds, but it would be worth it to see the cottage repaired sooner, and his investments would have replenished his funds by next summer. Or at least he hoped that was the case.

"Okay, I think I can afford an Elf," he sighed, looking around him once again and noticing the speculative look on the goblin's eye as he finally handed back the paperwork and contracts before stowing away his journals. He wouldn't be able to do more than equip the kitchen with the basics and buy himself a bed, furniture wise, but that was fine, he thought, while taking into account foodstuffs and other necessities. It would have to do.

"Very well, Mr. Potter. Everything seems to be in order here," Gornuk said, rolling the sheaf of parchment before it disappeared into one of his pockets. "Now, if you so desire, I could take you to Hogsmeade and show you were the Elves are sold. Should you buy one, it could transport you back here after you are finished. Not to mention that with your authorization, I would be able to pay for the purchase without you having to visit your vault. I would just withdraw the amount when I make my way back to the Bank."

"I think that would be best, thanks Gornuk," he nodded, standing up and dusting himself a bit. Looking around again, because he couldn't help himself, he started smiling. This was his, now. His own house. The thought was enough to make his smile grow bigger and bigger.

This was _his_ home.

Great Merlin, it hadn't even sunk in until that moment.

He was almost jumping on the balls of his feet, beaming at anything and everything, just looking around with awe in his face, eyes shining. For the first time since he could remember, he had a Home. Someplace that was truly, really, _his_. And though it wasn't much, and it would need a lot of work, it was still more than he could have imagined having. More than he had ever though he would have.

Until his Hogwarts letter came, he hadn't been able to grasp the concept of a place to call his own, and until his sixth year, the only thing that came close was Hogwarts. And let's face it; he hadn't even known that he was going to survive the war, that he would be able to live a normal life. Or at least as normal a life as he could.

But now...

"Are you ready, Mr. Potter?" the goblin assessor asked, face blank, as he held up an ornate looking key. And just like that, Harry was brought back to the present. Just what would the goblin make out of him, he wondered? Nodding, though, he stepped forward, and after looking about once more, put his finger on the key.

He didn't know where the portkey came from, and at the moment, he didn't care. All he knew was that he had a Home now, and that it needed work, and he just couldn't wait to get started.

-  
- o -  
-

They arrived in a back-alley with Harry toppling sideways upon arrival and looking with dazed eyes at a very amused goblin. Right. That's why he hated portkeys, he remembered, and couldn't wait to see about a way to at least circumvent the Trace so he could apparate.

If it was possible to do so, of course.

As a matter of fact, wasn't the Trace supposed to record magical activity _around_ the underage witch or wizard? And, well, _shit_. If that was the case, then the Ministry already knew where he was, didn't it? And they could already be keeping an eye out for him.

Looking around nervously, he straightened somewhat and scrambled to catch up to the departing goblin. Well, nothing had happened yet, so maybe something was interfering with the Trace? Would he be able to actually _do_ magic, though? And that brought up a sudden question in his mind. Something that could very well explain why everything was happening so smoothly; why Mr. Number Seven didn't notice him in his car, or why the Hairdresser didn't comment on his scar, and even why no one seemed to really notice him unless he wanted them to.

_Are you here? Are you watching out for me?_ He thought, still looking this way and that as Gornuk led the way to the westernmost side of Hogsmeade.

He didn't expect an answer, though, and almost jumped out of his skin when he got one, _"I am."_ And as a cold wind ruffled his hair, he couldn't help but ask, couldn't really stop himself from it. It should have unnerved him, really, but it didn't. It should have made him nervous, but that simple answer only served to reassure him. But still, there was something that nagged at him, something that he had just been wondering about…

_Can I do magic?_ He asked with his mind, certain now, more than ever, that _He_ was listening. But. _If he could do magic_… If the Trace had been somehow removed, or was being blocked… the problems that it would solve for him.

_"For the next week, you can,"_ came his answer in the wind; a mere whisper of words and then it was gone. But it was enough; more than enough. And with such news still ringing in his ears he almost whooped for joy right there and then, and it took a supreme effort on his part to only grin like a loon because of it.

He had a week, a whole week of being able to use _magic_. And though he understood the meaning behind that statement, that he would be alone and on his own after that week, it was still more than he had expected. More than he had any right to expect.

"We are here, Mr. Potter," his goblin associate said, startling him out of his reverie.

"Oh? Right," he nodded sheepishly, ruffling his hair as he took note of his new surroundings. In all honestly, he had never seen this part of Hogsmeade before. He knew that the Forbidden Forest was on the other side of the wizarding village, but that was about it.

Now, as he looked at the two story country house, standing innocuously in front of him, Harry was sure that he would never have pegged it for a place where House Elf's were sold. True, the house wasn't exactly straight, and the roof had an interesting twist about it that could only be attributed to magic; not to mention that the shutters in every window, and indeed, every window in the house, were completely mismatched.

But that was normal, wasn't it? And it did give the house a distinctive charm.

"This way, sir," Gornuk said, leading the way toward the front door and knocking firmly a few times. The knock sounded loud, though, and he was very surprised when the door opened right away, though not by an Elf, as he was half-expecting. Instead, a weedy looking wizard stood at the doorway, looking down at them with a curled lip.

"How can I help 'ye?" he asked, a strange inflection is his voice, as if English wasn't the language he regularly spoke.

"I am escorting my client in the search of a personal Elf, sir," Gornuk responded, and Harry marveled at the answer for a moment. It was perfectly true and also perfectly vague when you really thought about it. After all, the goblin knew that Harry was aiming to live on his own, something that was against wizarding law. But then, since he was getting paid for his services, he couldn't care less about what another race's law said or not, could he?

Lip curling even more as he was looked up and down, the wizard simply opened the door a bit wider and waved them in, "O' co'rse. I'll look fer' the mistress," and just like that, he departed down a hallway, leaving them standing in the entrance hall of the house without even a backwards glance.

"Pleasant sort, isn't he?" Harry remarked.

"Certainly," his goblin companion answered to his sarcasm, an amused look settling over his pointy features for mere moments.

"Ah! Costumers. I see that Roland wasn't pulling my chain, then," a sturdy looking witch exclaimed as she came towards them; where she popped up from, Harry couldn't say. She had a rolling gate and fraying black hair with squinting eyes. She looked suspicious, really, but then, Snape had always looked suspicious as well, right? "Now, my name is Valerie Tane and I was told you were looking for an Elf, Master Goblin?"

"Almost correct, madam," Gornuk answered with a nod, "I am simply accompanying my young client in his search for a personal elf," the goblin finished, nodding at him, and Harry gave a tentative smile as he shuffled his feet a bit. He saw how his companion was making it look, and if he just stayed quiet, the witch in front of him would assume or put together her own answers.

"I see," she said slowly, looking him up and down and probably taking in his tailored, though simple green robes, before she turned her complete attention toward the goblin, assuming that he was in charge of the purchase. And really, since Gornuk knew what he was looking for in an elf and how much he had to spend, Harry didn't really mind the way that Madam Tane dismissed him. "And what kind of elf are we talking about here?" she asked.

"A young one," the goblin answered immediately, "Not necessarily experienced, though he or she should at least have basic training. As I understand, the Elf would be further trained by the owner," he explained, and though Harry knew that he would be the owner, Gornuk put it in such a way that the witch would think it would be his father or someone of the sort who would be training and paying for the elf. "Apart from that, the elf must be good in repairs and maintenance as well as good for errands and such. Do you have such an elf?"

"Hmm, I have a few that fit that, yes," Madam Tane said absently, her hair waving around wildly as she waved them to follow her, "But let's take this to my office, shall we?" They walked down a dimly lit corridor and into a rather roomy, though messy, office. "Now," the frayed looking witch began as she walked behind her desk and started riffling through some parchments while waving absently at them to take a seat, "I have four Elves that fit those requirements. One of them is just out of basic training, actually; another has just finished household maintenance training, and the other two, while slightly older, are just out of intermediate training, which include actual work experience, gardening, cooking and cleaning. Here are their files."

Harry was really out of his depth here, and he just nodded where it seemed appropriate and read over his companions shoulder as the goblin perused the files. He had never known that there were so many things to consider, or that a House Elf went through so much training. According to what he was reading, there were three levels of training for an Elf, the first covering general service, the second broadening into house maintenance and upkeep, and the third in which every elf specialized in any one field, with each level taking two or three years each.

The first elf on the list had just finished the basics and the second was only about half way through the intermediate course, so he didn't have cooking, gardening or any of that under his belt, though he did have home repair and maintenance covered, but no experience at all.

The other two were just starting their training in their specialized fields. One, the female, was getting trained in gardening, and the second, a male elf, was training up to be a cook. Still, as he watched the number of galleons beside each of their profiles, he had to stop his eyes from popping. It had never registered before now just how much a house elf could cost, but looking at the stark numbers in front of his face he realized with a jolt that it was a small fortune to most of the wizarding world.

A small fortune that few could actually afford.

A small fortune that _he_ certainly couldn't afford.

But as he moved his eyes to look at the prices for the first two elves, he couldn't believe the difference in gold. These two he could actually afford, even if it would leave him without almost any money at the end of it.

"We will see this elf," Gornuk stated, gesturing toward the second profile. The one that just finished maintenance training.

"Certainly," Ms. Tane nodded and snapped her fingers, "Diggy," she called.

A tall, distinguished looking elf in a dirt-covered overall appeared in the office, "Mistress called Diggy?"

"Yes," she answered shortly, reading the profile of the elf Gornuk had requested, "Toppy is in your gardening class, isn't he?" she asked.

"Toppy be in Diggy's class, yes, Mistress."

"Bring him here, then." The elf departed with a _pop_ and the witch turned toward them once again, "Now, while Toppy gets here, do you have any questions?"

"Certainly, ma'am," Gornuk replied, "Could you tell us if the elf could be further trained later on? If I remember correctly, you train bonded elves in specific duties or the whole program from time to time, don't you?"

"We do. Much like a school, you would only need to sign the elf up for the classes, and though each class had its own individual price, the cost is lower than normal when the elf is bonded. It is one of the reasons why so many buy them young and untrained."

"And what's the difference if they're bonded or not?" Harry piped in, more than slightly curious.

The matron just smiled indulgently and answered, though Harry distinctly felt that he was merely being tolerated, "Well young man, its rather simple. Much like a wizard with a wand, an elf would be able to focus their mind and magic better when they are bonded to a wizard, so it is easier for them to learn after a bond is in place. The classes are still expensive; it just takes a bonded elf less time to learn them, is all, so it doesn't cost half as much as when training un-bonded elves."

A moment later, Diggy, the gardening elf appeared in the doorway leading the shortest elf Harry had ever seen. He was at least a head shorter than Dobby and Kreacher, if Harry remembered right and his ears were extra floppy, going as far as to hang rather limply over his head. He was an olive green in color, verging on brown, and had enormously bright brown eyes that were looking at him a bit too intensely, to tell the truth.

"Here be Toppy, Mistress. Can Diggy be doing anything else?"

"No, Diggy, you are dismissed," and as she turned toward the short elf, Harry did something that he couldn't really explain, even days later, "Now, this here is Toppy. I know he is rather small for his age, but he is a most excellent elf and quite gifted with childr—"

"We'll take him," he said firmly, looking at his new elf with a smile, and somewhat surprising himself by his sudden decision. After all, he had decided earlier to allow Gornuk to do the negotiating. Speaking off, "Gornuk, could you make sure to take care of everything? I'm going to head over into the town to buy a few things," standing up at the goblins nod and faint smirk, which he understood better upon seeing how flustered the witch was, he turned to leave, placing a hand on the short elves shoulder, "Now, why don't you come with me Toppy, we can get to know each other better and see about the bonding and all, yeah?"

"O-of course, M'ster," the little elf stuttered a bit, looking rather startled at the action.

And as he started chattering away and making his way out of the house, Toppy right beside him, he could clearly hear the disbelieving words coming out of the office he had just left. Really, though he didn't know much about places like this, he did know a few things about house elves.

Especially the fact that they worked better when bonded by their own will, or found a master that they loved and respected.

So he did what he thought was right and jumped right in. It had worked enough times in the past, hadn't it? "Anyways, did I tell you about the house I just bought?" he chattered at the overwhelmed elf, "It's a mess, I tell you, and that's why I needed some help, that is, if you want to help me? There's a whole lot of work to do in and around the cottage, and though I know that you haven't finished your training, I do know that you know enough to help me out, so what do you think?" he paused, looking down at the stupefied little elf, whose enormous eyes where shimmering slightly.

"M'ster is asking Toppy?" he asked in a trembling tone.

"I am," Harry told him with a nod, looking at the young elf sincerely, "I don't want a servant, Toppy, or a distant worker. I want a friend that will help me look after myself and my house. Do you think you could be that friend?"

Long ears wiggling behind his head, where they went past his little shoulders, Toppy was practically shaking on his feet. It took only seconds for Harry to find his waist being wrapped by a trembling and crying house elf, babbling gratitude and gushing about how hard he would work and so on.

And Harry, patting the elf on the head could only smile a bit, remembering Dobby and even Kreacher somewhat, "Well, if that's a yes then, we'd better get some shopping done. We have a home to get ready and all."

"Oh yes, M'ster…erm, what be yous name M'ster?" the tiny elf asked shyly.

"I didn't introduce myself did I?" he asked absently, distracted as he was by entering a part of Hogsmeade that he knew, "The name's Harry. Harry Potter."

It took him a while to notice, really, so intent was he in looking over the window displays of a supply store, but then, he hadn't expected Toppy to faint, now had he? Something was certain, though. It was going to be an interesting rest of the summer.

"Toppy? Toppy! Are you alright?"

-  
- o -  
-

"Toppy?"

"Yes, M'ster Harry?" the tiny elf asked after he popped in. Harry wasn't even sure if the elf popped in with the question on his lips, or if the phrase just came in automatic. Briefly, he wondered how the little elf would reply if he called for him while out at sea, while flying or while something unusual was happening. Would Toppy still ask what he wanted in those scenarios?

Still, he could always test his theories out later. Looking down toward the little guy, he ruffled his hair in though, "Could you set Gulliver's stand up in the living room, please? I don't want him to stay in his cage for much longer. I'll finish unpacking things here in the kitchen, while you do that."

"Yes'sir, M'ster Harry, Toppy be doing that now!"

"Thanks Toppy," he said as he began to rummage through his new purchases, only to be interrupted by a throat being cleared. "Huh? Oh, Gornuk, you're still around?" Why would the goblin be hanging around still? "Right! I have a few things for you before you go," he said and disappeared into his new room in search for a specific roll of parchments that he had compiled before heading back, "Here you go, these are the muggle investments which I'm interested in; the top ones holding the most priority."

"Certainly, Mr. Potter. I will forward this along to Mr. Beckett. Is there anything else where I can be of assistance?"

Shaking his head, Harry simply shook the goblin's offered hand, "Not that I can think of, no, apart from what we've already talked about, that is. But still, thank you for all of your help today, Gornuk, I really appreciate it."

"It was an enlightening venture Mr. potter. Think nothing of it," the goblin dismissed.

"Well, I still thank you for it. If you ever need any help, you know where to find me," Harry told him, especially since he had started to trust _this_ goblin. They were all a nasty piece of work as a race, but Harry knew that as long as he kept his end of the bargain and no goblin laws or customs were broken, Gornuk wouldn't let him down.

But then, maybe he should brush up on goblin law and custom before their next meeting?

Still, as the goblin disappeared, Harry couldn't help but notice how late in the day it was. After unpacking his new purchases, setting up his new bed and eating the food that he'd bought at the Three Broomsticks, Harry was going to hit the sack. If anything, he had three weeks to set everything up and one of those weeks he would be able to do all the magic that he wanted.

After that, he would have to see, but for now… Well, for now he could just keep walking forward and seeing how things turned out.

A _pop_ distracted him from his musings and he looked down at a bouncing Toppy. The elf was simply brimming with excitement at the amount of work ahead of them, not to mention happy at having bonded to 'such a good and powerful wizard like M'ster Harry Potter.'

"Toppy be done settling Gulliver and Hedwig in the new perch, M'ster Harry."

"Brilliant, thanks Toppy, how about you get started cleaning my room then? The supplies are in that bag over there. I'll _still_ be here in the kitchen if you need anything, alright?"

"Yes'sir!"

The rest of the night, and indeed, the rest of the week passed without incident. Harry would send Toppy over to Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley to buy food for them while they fixed up the kitchen, which had been their top priority after his room, the bathroom and the roof were patched up and working.

True, only the basic repairs had been carried out as well as a good scrub down, but everything was working well even if it didn't exactly look pretty. For now, it would more than do, Harry was sure. Thankfully, he had been able to use magic that first week, so cleaning hadn't really been a chore, not to mention that he managed to learn more than a couple of household charms in the process.

Toppy was kept as busy as Harry himself was, and both of them passed the time cleaning, painting and repairing the house, even if Harry took more breaks where he practiced with his flute or just lazed around catching his breath. At the same time, he sometimes gave the little elf some cooking lessons, which were more than slightly amusing. It wasn't magical cooking, of course, since he didn't know how to do it himself, but he made sure that the elf would be able to keep himself fed while he was away in school.

As things stood, as soon as his investments started paying up, he would send the elf to get some training in both cooking and gardening, among other things. After all, there was enough land around that they could probably grow most of the things they were going to eat, which would cut down on their expenses later on.

After that week was over, however, both Harry and Toppy had to be very careful with their magic; the house elf especially. After all, while Harry was still registered as living in Privet Drive, the last thing that he needed was for the Ministry to realize that that was not the case anymore; especially with how under-protected his property was, that is, if the Ministry could even tell the difference between one underage wizard and the next. At the moment, though, he didn't have any way to check, so he decided to play it safe.

Sure, Gornuk would take care of setting up some basic magical protection later on, but that was when he had enough money for it, and at the moment his visit to the Healer in Hogsmeade and the potion regiment that he was following cut quite a bit into his remaining funds.

Funds that were rapidly dwindling, at that. He wasn't sure if he'd have a lot left after the summer was over, to tell the truth.

As far as he could figure, actually, by September the first he would only have enough galleons left to keep Toppy happy and healthy, and allow Harry some extra change to purchase a few things from the lunch lady in the express. He was hoping, or rather, he was desperately hopeful of some of his investments producing some money by Christmas time.

He would be in dire straits if they didn't, at least.

Still, he would have to prepare for the possibility of having no money by that time and find some other way to make some. Otherwise, he would have to ask for help, and that would mean that he would need to actually tell someone of where he lived, or even some of his plans.

And that was something that he certainly didn't want to happen.

For all intents and purposes, and at the stage in the timeline in which he found himself, that, above everything else, was his worst-case scenario. Indeed, if he could avoid telling anyone about his plans, he would be more than happy.

Still, for the rest of the summer holidays he and Toppy were extra careful of doing everything the muggle way, something that the elf seemed to enjoy, since this way the workload could be stretched over a longer period of time.

They were able to scrape the walls and put some new paint on it. They fixed the roof and cleaned the fireplace. The polished the wooden floor and replaced the boards that were rotting or old and did quite a number in the attic, which was more of a storage space than anything at that moment.

The cellar they left alone, in part because it was cut off from the house and they could leave it for later, but mostly because Harry wanted to turn it into a lab, but didn't have the money for it right then; although the same could be said for the greenhouse as well.

There was no hot water to be had, and the plumbing had needed more than a few charms to get it going during the first week, but Harry didn't really mind all that much. He was used to cold showers at that time.

All in all, even if it didn't look fancy or anything, their little cottage started looking more cozy and warm. It reminded Harry of the Burrow actually, though it lacked the constant use of magic that made the Burrow come to life as it did. Not to mention that it was more than slightly bare of furniture and all those little knickknacks that made the Weasley home into an enchantingly cluttered place. Maybe, though, maybe his new home would gain that touch of magic later on.

If nothing else, he could hope for it, at the very least.

Apart from that, it wasn't until a few days before Hogwarts, after the cottage was as fixed up as they could make it, that Harry put the last of his summer plans into action. Everything else had worked well so far, or had been put in motion already, since he knew that he would have to wait until he was in Hogwarts to do anything drastic. Still, that didn't stop him from getting the ball rolling, as it were, and with Gulliver there, his new Great Grey owl, he had the stick he needed to prod some things into motion.

He didn't have a desk yet, so he used the kitchen counter to write up the following letter in a flowing script, idly wondering how much a new counter would cost him:

_Dear Madam:_

_My name, as it is, is of no consequence in the face  
of the information I am about to impart. However,  
while I cannot yet reveal my identity, you will find  
that this is because the news I bear is too fragile for  
me to take such a risk as to reveal myself without  
more precautions being in place beforehand._

_Yet, I find that my duty as a wizard and a citizen of  
our world can demand no less than some action to be  
taken, and as such I bring to you this information,  
regardless of the risks sending this letter might put me in._

_Madam, I plead that you don't discard this letter  
or its contents as a fanciful tale. This information  
has been confirmed, though I can give no further  
proof other than my word on its veracity. However,  
while I might be willing to take some risks, I am not  
incautious; Depending on how you act upon what I  
have to say, and how you deal with it, will mark whether  
or not you will hear from me again._

_As things stand, you alone carry the decision of whether  
our correspondence will continue or not. After all, there  
are those outside of the law who could just as likely aid  
me for the greater good of our world._

_So please, listen to what I tell you now:_

_Barty Crouch Jr. is not dead. He has been freed from  
Azkaban by his mother's request and lives in his father's  
home, under the guardianship of a House Elf and the  
effects of Mr. Crouch's Imperious Curse, usually well hidden  
under an Invisibility Cloak._

_And yes, I speak of the Head of International Magical  
Cooperation, Mr. Bartemius Crouch, and his son, the  
convicted Death Eater. As far as I have been able to  
uncover, Mrs. Crouch was dying at the time of her son's  
breakout, and upon her last visit with him at the prison  
she switched with him using Polyjuice Potion. Barty Jr.  
left with his father and Mrs. Crouch died in Azkaban,  
still under the effects of the potion._

_It is a little known secret that those who die under the  
effects of Polyjuice retain their acquired form even in death._

_You might think this letter to be a compilation of tall-tales  
Madam, but you need only look into Mr. Crouch's home to  
find the evidence needed to prove or disprove it._

_I will be watching the news._

- **Shade.  
**  
_P.S. There is more I have uncovered… much more._

Reading it over after at least two drafts, Harry nodded firmly. Hopefully it was worded strongly enough and dramatically enough so that it wouldn't be dismissed out of hand. If nothing else, he could always find other ways to make changes, but if he used the official channels, thus influencing the public more closely, then more changes than just those he directly made would ripple out from his actions, depending on how people reacted to them, be those changes for good or ill.

Yet, as he addressed the envelope to Madam Bones, in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement of the Ministry of Magic, he couldn't help but hope that the change would be for good. Indeed, as he attached the now finished letter to Gulliver and watched the enormous owl wing his way to his destination, he couldn't do much else than hope.

Hope that the echoes, the ripples and the impact of his passing, of his changing this dimension, would not become too harsh in the coming future. But then, things are never certain, and change was his only goal at the moment. He couldn't really be picky, after all.

His very existence depended on change, and not on whether that change was for good or ill.

* * *

_**To be continued…**_


	3. Unsteady Reality: Detours

_**Disclaimer:**_ Characters from the _Harry Potter_ series are the property of J.K. Rowling and various publishers: including but not limited to Bloomsbury, Scholastic and Warner Brothers. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended by the writing of this story.

* * *

Year One  
**Unsteady Reality  
**-+-  
Chapter Three  
**Detours**

* * *

"Breakfast is being ready, M'ster Harry," Toppy told him on the early morning of September 1st as Harry finished checking his trunk and its contents. Nodding in acknowledgment to the House Elf's announcement and thanking the small being, the young wizard gave a last glance at his room; seeing only the one bed, bare walls, floor and nothing that should have been packed before now. Nothing seemed to be left behind and none of his knickknacks were scattered about. Satisfied with his final search he took out his wand from the expanded pocket of his trousers, tapped the top of the vertical trunk and watched in amusement as the bookshelf wiggled and retracted its clawed feet, before sliding back into its compartment while the set of drawers on the left followed its example.

The trunk squirmed a bit more, as if getting comfortable with itself, before the cabinet doors of the front compartment were swallowed up as well, leaving only a smooth surface and a normal looking trunk in its wake. Hedwig's cage, his only other piece of luggage, had already been taken out and cleaned since it had been unused for the last three weeks and neglected under his bed. It was now waiting for him in the living room, along with his snowy owl, for their first trip to Hogwarts.

Stowing his wand, he tipped his trunk on its edge and shook his head slightly when the sound of the four spherical feet at the bottom of the piece of luggage rolled away from their places and hefted it up, placing themselves at the edge so that Harry could drag the trunk without trouble. Really, he didn't think he'd ever stop being amazed at what wizards could come up with, and was even more curious as to how the four little wheels didn't bump on the uneven floorboards and provided such a smooth ride.

Stowing this curiosity for later, he pulled on the handle and leisurely made his way towards the main room of his cottage, saw that it was not quite eight o'clock, and took the time to look around in satisfaction.

It might be bare, it might need a bit of polish and more than a few things replaced besides, but his little home was perfect in his mind, and already looked much improved from what it had been when he first set foot on it. He'd already given Toppy his directions for the year; the little elf was to finish cleaning every nook and cranny in the cottage, both inside and outside (which they hadn't really paid much mind to apart from patching up the roof), repairing what needed it, replacing what could not be repaired and spelling everything with care. After that, the immediate surroundings would be cared for and a small garden begun.

Both of them had walked the extensive property and found quite the selection of plants in and around it, and while restoring the whole terrain would be too much work at this point, refurbishing the closest field and planting a bit of everything edible in it would be enough to provide for the house and those who lived in it. Any surplus Toppy was to sell in the markets, which should bring a few more galleons in. While the little elf hadn't finished his gardening classes, he knew enough to take care of a normal garden.

The magical plants, on the other hand, would have to wait until Harry could pay for the little fellow to continue his training, or he could get another elf or elves that specialized in that area.

And they would be needed too, as there were quite a lot of them around the property. Harry had been right when he guessed potion ingredients had once been grown around this property. As a whole, about a quarter of it was set up to do that, with different environments provided in the small lake, the long bog and the woods. Most of the open fields had been farmed before and he had even seen bowtruckles in the light forest, meaning that there were wand-trees around as well.

Toppy had even mentioned spotting a few other magical creatures in the area, but none of them were hazardous to them both or the surroundings. It would take a bit more exploring to see what they all were though, but that could wait.

Having left his trunk next to Hedwig's empty cage, Harry made his way toward the dining room table, which they had found in the greenhouse and restored. It wasn't in the best of conditions, what with a mismatched and replaced leg and a rather battered appearance after they had to scrub it down thoroughly, but it did its job, and while small enough to fit only two people, there was only Harry in the cottage to use it, since Toppy was terrified of eating with him for some reason.

Indeed, the little elf's reaction to his invitation to eat with him had been a bit more violent than he thought possible and so he decided not to press the issue.

As it was, breakfast consisted of bacon, eggs and toast, which he ate in silent contemplation, checking things over in his mind just to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything.

His prospects for some useable money by the end of the school year was not because his investments wouldn't start paying beforehand, but because what revenue he _did_ get during this year would be directed immediately into the magical protection of his property. A percentage of it would go into replenishing the gold he'd already used up, true, but the majority of it would go into having the Muggle-Repellent, Notice-Me-Not and various enchantments repowered or recast, since a few of them were rather tattered at the moment, what with no magic users living in the place for such a long time.

Besides that, Harry wanted the whole property to be made _Unplotable_, and lastly, his personal location, not the property itself, placed under the _Fidelius_. Both of which were rather expensive procedures.

True, there were a hundred other protections he could place, and actually planned on placing, but anonymity would be more than enough for next summer. If he couldn't be found, he wouldn't be, and that was more than enough for now. So Gornuk would remain under contract and every time there was enough money from his investments, the goblin would arrange for one or more of these magical protections to be placed.

Moreover, there were enough galleons on hand to last Toppy the rest of the year and pay for any materials needed so the small house could be fully repaired. Thinking as he ate, he wasn't sure if there was anything else related to his small home that needed to be done; Toppy had already been instructed to send Gulliver to a post-office if there was ever a need, instead of sending him directly to Hogwarts lest the owl be recognized.

Everything else he owned and needed was in his trunk, and all of his other resources were either spent or working hard at making more money. He wouldn't get word from Mr. Becket, who was in charge of his investments, until at least the middle of September, so there was nothing to be done on that end. The same went for Gornuk, since his contract with the goblin didn't come into effect until there were enough galleons in his vault.

His letter to Madam Bones had only been sent a few days ago, so it would take time before he heard news on that front, though he had already subscribed to the _Prophet_ for the year to keep an eye out, and until he knew how she acted he wouldn't be able to know if he could use that avenue for his plans. Should it backfire or not work, he would need to find another way, but he was planning on taking things on that front somewhat slowly.

He finished his breakfast with a sigh, his belly nice and full, and took the paper that Toppy placed in front of him, which seemed to have arrived while he was eating. Looking at his watch, he noticed that it was only a quarter till nine at the moment. "Toppy?" he asked as he unfolded the paper on the table, his arms a bit too small to hold the whole thing upright.

With a _pop_, the elf was at his elbow, "Yes, M'ster Harry?"

"We'll be leaving in about forty-five minutes, could you remind me when it's time?" he asked distractedly, as he spotted a small article announcing that the Boy-Who-Lived would be attending Hogwarts today. There was even speculation about his childhood and interviews with some of Diagon Alley's shop-owners, where they had been asked if they had recognized him, or if he had been spotted.

Was that there last time as well? He didn't remember seeing it, that's for sure.

Still, apart from that, the biggest news at the moment seemed to rotate around St Mungo's and some spell damage that affected half a dozen people, along with the usual gossip about the who's who of the wizarding world.

So immersed was he in searching for anything of note that he was halfway through the Quidditch section of the paper, which marked the end of the periodical, when Toppy appeared beside him once again, "M'ster Harry, it be time now," the little elf reminded him with a bow.

Startled, he looked at his watch and noticed that yes, it was nine thirty-five in the morning, and since he had wanted to get to the Platform early, it would be best if he left soon, "Thanks Toppy." Folding the paper and leaving it in the table, he went over to Hedwig, who was perched beside Gulliver, and stroked her feathers, "Hey girl, it's time we get going," reaching out, he took her cage from beside his trunk and opened it so that the snowy owl could climb in, "There's a girl, you can go back to sleep now, eh? I'll let you out again when we get on the train."

Hedwig clicked her beak at him and fluffed her feathers before settling down on her perch. Toppy was standing beside his trunk looking up at him with his enormously bright brown eyes, "Are you being ready, M'ster Harry?" the olive-brown elf asked, the tips of his long ears quivering at his shoulder blades.

Harry didn't answer right away though, and took a good long look of his home, trying to imprint the image in his mind; he was going to miss the place, even though he hadn't been here for long. When he was done, he looked down at Toppy, who was wearing some short overalls that the elf had bought with money he had given him for such a purpose, and nodded, stretching his hand for Toppy to grab.

Elf apparition wasn't all that different from wizarding apparition, true; there was the same compressing sensation, the same squeezing through a rubber-tube feeling, but there was one simple difference. While human apparition was seemingly instantaneous, and you got out of the tube almost as soon as you were squeezed into it, a House Elf's apparition took a couple of seconds longer.

And it was in those couple of seconds that the difference was found. The tube you felt yourself being squeezed through was not straight, but bent and swirly. Toppy had told him that it was this that allowed House Elves to bypass most magical protections and barriers, since the magic was not straight or instantaneous. It could still be blocked just as well as normal apparition, though. It just wasn't needed all that much; especially when wizards were too sure of their superiority to utilize the little beings to get anywhere.

Still, it was a tidbit of information that he'd only learned after he'd asked his little employee.

When they popped into existence Harry found himself in a hidden alcove of King's Cross Station; one of two apparition points in the area. Turning around to see if they had arrived in one piece, he checked his pocket to see if he had his ticket and made sure his clothes were muggle-proof, and then turned to the drooping Toppy, who had just _pop_ped back from retrieving his trunk and Hedwig. Squatting in front of the tiny elf, Harry smiled at the small creature's shuffling and tugged one of the elf's long ears gently, "I'll be home before you notice," he told him.

Sniffing, the little elf didn't look up as much as he peeked at him, before scuffing his feat a bit more, "M'ster Harry, sir, be gone for a year," came the whispered, depressed reply.

"More like eight months, really," he said in a thoughtful tone before something occurred to him, "besides," he told Toppy slyly, "there's still so much work to do at home, do you really want me to be there to work as well?" he asked and watched how Toppy's fingers twitched, knowing how the little elf took to seeing Harry cleaning. "I'll tell you what, why don't you come and visit me during Christmas, then? That way I can give you your present in person."

That snapped the elf's attention right up and disbelief was clearly visible in the big brown eyes. Luckily, Toppy had become used to Harry enough that he didn't get overly emotional or started groveling, bowing or scraping at the merest sign of praise, which Harry gave out freely and frequently.

Still, the shock was more than palpable in the little being, "M'ster Harry'll give Toppy a present?"

"I will," he nodded firmly, "so chin up, work hard, though not too hard, and be ready for when I call you on Christmas day, I'll want to know then how everything's doing, okay?"

Nodding vigorously, Toppy gave him a short bow, almost bouncing in place, "Toppy'll do his best, M'ster Harry, sir!"

"Good," he nodded with a last pull on the elf's ear and stood up, taking Hedwig's cage in one hand and pulling his trunk with the other before turning to leave the magically hidden alcove, looking back with a "Have fun Toppy, and take care!" before slipping out and seamlessly joining the hustle and bustle of people, knowing that the little guy would be fine. It didn't take him more than five minutes to walk the familiar way toward Platform Nine and Ten, and his step didn't even falter as he veered slightly and entered Platform Nine and Three Quarters.

He paused ever so slightly and a smile spread across his face. He was here once more, where it all began, and with this in mind he walked idly toward the train. It was as beautiful as he remembered and still as striking now as it had been all those years ago.

There weren't all that many people in and about the train yet, seeing that it was not even ten o'clock. The majority of the students would begin arriving after ten thirty he was sure, so there really wasn't anyone to take much notice of him as he entered one of the middle carts and settled into an empty compartment.

Before sitting down, he tapped his wand on the trunk and retrieved his satchel, which contained his flute, a couple of books and his uniform. With that out of the way, he quickly looked around and saw the very faint trickle of students and parents arriving early, with no one looking his way, and levitated his trunk into the overhead compartment. He let Hedwig out, stored her cage beside his trunk, took his thin book on Occlumency out from his satchel and settled down into a corner to read.

It was strange, really; of all the emotions he had experienced so far and all of the things that he had felt and sensed; something still bothered him. He felt too much anticipation at arriving at Hogwarts, something that he shouldn't be feeling so strongly since he'd been to and lived in the Castle before. But then, maybe it was because of the newness of these emotions that he felt them so strongly, so acutely. After all, all of his past memories were without emotional ties, so only those moments he had lived in this dimension truly registered as _real_.

Only these past few weeks felts truly whole to him; complete.

And it was then he realized what seemed so strange to him. True, he knew that even if he remembered his life in the other dimension, the emotions tied to it were gone. He was but a mere emotionless echo of his original soul, a mere reflection. He had a soul, true, and he had a body and mind. Two dimensions of a whole. But he didn't have any of the emotions or emotional bonds from his original life and this was the aspect he had been missing, this was what made his experiences so strange, so new.

So intense, and at the same time so flat.

Even as he looked outside at the milling people, he recognized more than a few of them; former and future classmates and friends. And yet, apart from the knowledge of who they were and the factual information of his former relationship with them, he couldn't feel anything else. No nostalgia, no friendship, no care or concern. It explained why he hadn't just gone straight to the Weasleys' after waking up in this dimension, or anything quite as sentimental.

And yet, the knowledge was there and the seeds of what could be his relationship with them had already been planted within him. It would only take a wee bit of effort, not even enough to count, and he could form the same strong friendships once again, maybe even stronger.

But did he want that? What kind of impact would that have on this universe?

It was a cold view of things, true, but it was one he needed to consider, or this whole reality could collapse. Would that erase the existence of everyone else as well, just as it would his own? They were, after all, mere echoes made from a mesh of different, insignificant choices, and without him making enough waves to make the new choices they made noteworthy, this unsteady reality might well collapse with him.

Coincidentally, Hermione came into view soon after these thoughts, chattering incessantly at her parents, and he was conscious of the fact that there was no affection or closeness or any such feelings stirring within him, something that would have happened with her, if anything or anyone else. There was only flat, uncomplicated knowledge of their past interactions; past memories of what could be, or what had been.

Should he risk it?

Would the difference in interactions based on his initiative to befriend her change enough to affect this dimension? Would becoming her friend once more, although not a naïve or hot-headed one, be enough to cause a difference? Or would he fall into familiar patterns and familiar choices because of familiar company?

It was something that had stirred in his mind for some time now and in the face of what was and what could be, along with what he could create, what he could _change_, was he truly determined enough to take a different path? Or could he forge a different future from within the well-worn road that he had already walked upon?

Sighing and looking down at the book in his lap, he pushed these thoughts aside, along with the sharp emotional turmoil that such ponderings always seemed to bring. His emotions were too raw yet for him to go down that road. He couldn't really decide at the moment, not as he was, so he simply decided not to decide. For now, he would just go with what came and see what became of it. In this moment, he could better spend his time by finding out how to perfect his Occlumency techniques. Because although it was true that he had already mastered the trick of it, of keeping a Legilimens out of his mind, it was still somewhat rough around the edges, and there were certain aspects of the art that he had never attempted before.

How to get a grasp on his emotions being the most essential to him at that moment.

He was soon immersed within the patterns and techniques of obscuring the mind from others, curled up in the corner of his compartment. It wasn't a big and complicated book; in fact, it was all rather simple. But then, Occlumency was obscure because it had only one use: to hide your mind from others. To conceal it; it was, plain and simple, a counter to Legilimency.

It was odd how things worked out, but he had learned long ago that every spell and incantation, every curse and hex, and indeed, ever single piece of magic had a counter. If there was a way to do it, there was sure to be a way to undo it. What made the killing curse so feared was that it was the exception to the rule. Once death claimed you, there was no magic on earth that could bring you back.

True, you could avoid getting hit with the curse, but avoiding was not the same as countering it after it had been cast. There was nothing that could restore you after being hit, much like a transfiguration could be reversed, or a charm or hex could be undone.

Everything else was open game. Oh, that's not to say if you go to extremes you could reverse things, or you could erase the consequences of your actions and magic. It just meant there was a balance in magic, and in the most simplistic way, as long as you could conjure it, you could also banish it.

Some counters had long ago been lost; some had not been discovered. Others were so difficult to do and so complicated to make that it's like there wasn't a solution. And some, like Occlumency, were so obscure very few bothered with it. But Harry had already had to learn it by necessity, so it wouldn't be fair to simply give up the skill.

At the moment, should someone attempt Legilimency on him, they wouldn't be able to access his mind; they would just slide right out of it, either by lack of force or his own will. They wouldn't be able to read him. But that was a bit obvious, and he didn't want to be obvious, so he was determined to fine-tune his skill in the art until he could hide only what he needed to hide. And as he learned to hide some things and reveal others, so would he learn to better control the ebb and flow of his emotions. After that, well, he had already read a few tricks here and there he wanted to research.

His mind was already cleared of emotion as it was. It wasn't that he was suppressing them; just that he wasn't letting them rule him. Already he had found a better technique than the one he had used for this purpose; instead of simple shoving his emotions out of the way and ignoring them, the technique made you acknowledge what you were feeling and then letting it go, in a way.

It would be hard to do such a thing constantly, but if he mastered it, he would be able to stay calm and rational throughout any situation. He wouldn't be suppressing or ignoring his emotions so much as taking away their power over his actions.

It was fascinating.

So engrossed was he in his thoughts, his practice and his book, along with his musings of magic and its nature that Harry didn't notice when the door to his compartment opened and closed, or when someone tried to get his attention and failed.

-  
- o -  
-

Once the train started moving he jolted out of his reading (and his cleared mind), but even then he was already half-way finished with the book, seeing that it was a really, _really_ thin book and all.

Shock showed itself on his face as he found himself in a full compartment and everyone within it looking in his direction, but he consciously recognized his surprise and let the emotion dissipate, though it took some effort. He blinked at the people who were now looking back at him, probably because of his movements.

"Ehm, hi?" he greeted them awkwardly, blinking again and frowning slightly. Was he nervous? And why was he awkward? It wasn't like he had anything to be ashamed of. And why were they all staring at him still? It was creepy. They could at least say something, right?

Right.

He took a small breath and cleared his mind. Maybe it was because he hadn't felt awkward before now that the feeling was so much stronger? It had caught him somewhat unaware. That was something to look into; would anger overwhelm him when he experienced it? Would other emotions?

A boy with blond hair and grey eyes coughed into his hand and waved from in front of him to catch his wandering attention, "Right, hey, I'm Cedric Diggory," he introduced himself before he peeled his sights from him, or more specifically, his forehead, and offered his hand to shake before waving in the direction of the compact, auburn haired girl sitting beside him, while still shaking his hand nervously. Harry wondered briefly when the other boy would let go, but preferred not to bring attention to it as he was introduced, "This is Heidi Macavoy, and the bean-sprout over by the door is Kyle Summers," he said, ignoring the protests from the short, brown-haired boy ('Don't call me that, cabbage head'), as Harry waved his greetings and shook hands with those closest to him, glad that Cedric had let go of his hand. "Over on your side, those are Kathy and Mandy Brocklehurst, who's a first year like you."

A chorus of 'hello's and 'hey's and other various greetings came from the others in the group while they were being introduced, and Harry tried to think back and match the names and faces to see if he could recognize any of them.

Not that he didn't remember Cedric, of course; it's just that the boy was, well, short and runty compared to how Harry remembered him being. He had almost done a double take of the Hufflepuff when he introduced himself.

It seemed puberty did wonders for a few people after all.

And after looking at him briefly, Harry found that Cedric's head _did_ look like a cabbage. That had not been the case when he had known him, that's for sure.

But still, why hadn't he recognized the boy for who he was? Apart from how young he looked, it shouldn't have been so difficult. Then again, he didn't really look like Harry remembered him to be and he hadn't really met the other until three years later on the Quidditch Pitch during Harry's third year, or thereabouts. However, after the introductions were done with, and Harry was about to introduce himself, Cedric, who seemed to have gained his confidence back, simply pointed at Harry and announced, "And you're Harry Potter," with all the bluntness and tact of the teenager he was, to the awed and silent compartment.

It was an almost reverent silence. Again, creepy.

Harry wasn't all that surprised, really. It certainly explained why they had turned to him as one when his attention had left his book.

"I am," he replied with a tilted head, a bit curious about the situation that he found himself in. He remembered his first ride in the Hogwarts Express all too well, along with most of his years at Hogwarts. Indeed, if he remembered correctly, Heidi was already a part of the Quidditch team. Everyone else was a stranger to him, though it was a good guess they were all from the Badger's house.

Another curious thing was how they were so nervous around a mere first year. He hadn't really remembered how people had looked at him during the beginning of his schooling, but seeing it all over again brought those memories back to the forefront of his mind.

Everyone had been in awe of him for one reason or another, introducing themselves, whispering and asking stupid questions that had overwhelmed him all too quickly. He had retreated within a shell and stuck close to Ron, not to mention performed a great number of evasive maneuvers to avoid people in the corridors. But he wasn't exactly shy now, or childish for that matter. He wasn't afraid as much a wary of the attention, so how would things turn out this time?

Silence greeted his self-assured response, which made him crack a smile. They were all kids, really. Nervous and self-conscious. Even the brave and noble Cedric Diggory, who Harry had had nothing but respect for, seemed out of sorts in his presence.

It was a bit surreal all things considered.

Nodding at Kyle's school robes, since he was already wearing them, he decided to break the silence, "Are the lot of you Hufflepuff's then?"

And that got more than the estimated reaction, what with House Pride coming to the rescue.

Still, it _did_ get the lot of them talking.

Immediately they almost tripped over themselves to tell him that _yes_, they were Hufflepuff's, and that, of course, all of them were in the same house, apart from Mandy that is, who was a first year like him, but that they were all third years, which was brilliant because they had some new classes this year they were looking forward to take.

All of them started telling him about their House and their favorite subjects, about what electives they would be taking and what they were looking forward to. It was all too weird, really, how they were talking to him as if he were supposed to know everything and could understand all the things they were saying. And though he could understand and did know what they were talking about, it only took a glance from the corner of his eyes to notice Mandy looking rather overwhelmed by all the chatter and all the strange things they were talking about.

What would a first year know about electives, anyways? Or about the professors and which class was more difficult than the rest? How could a new student be aware of the little idiosyncrasies and social standings of the Hogwarts Houses, even if she did have an older sister at Hogwarts? How could he, one of these supposed first year, keep up in a conversation with students a few years his senior?

No one questioned him, however, and no one found this as strange as he did, even as they asked for his opinions and talked with him about these subjects and others pertaining to the school and the wizarding world, however non-consequential they were, and _listened_ to what he had to say.

Honestly, Harry didn't see the appeal of discussing the Weird Sister's latest concert. He had never had such light concerns, though it was interesting to listen to the comments made by the supposedly older students, and he made a mental note to go to a wizarding concert sometime in the future.

He made this known and they all started telling him about the different magical bands, some of which he had never even heard of before.

Honestly, who the hell were the _Brewing Brothers?_

As it was, by the time they were half an hour into the trip everyone in the compartment was rather more relaxed, and Harry took the time while the older friends cached up with their summers to really think about what had just happened.

He was the Boy Who Lived, Harry Potter, the only survivor of the Killing Curse and the defeater of the Darkest Wizard in the last century. To them, and indeed, to the rest of the student body and most of the wizarding world, he was supposed to know things above and beyond his years. He was supposed to be both remarkable and extraordinary.

Oh, Cedric, Kyle, Heidi, Kathy and Mandy, who was still looking somewhat wide-eyed and overawed at him, now knew that he was a normal wizard as well, and another boy. He could tell by how they were treating him that they already considered him 'one of the guys,' but still, they didn't find his extra knowledge strange. They didn't comment on his overly-mature perspective and comments.

To them, that was how it was supposed to be, and they were just glad to have him as a friend, for he was not a mere acquaintance to them. After all, they were Hufflepuffs, and making friends quickly was in their House's Charter, he was sure.

And now that he thought about it, maybe he had stood out more because of his ignorance during his first life than he would now? He had been young and shy, unknowledgeable and naïve, back then. How many expectations had been shattered because of this? How many people had been let down because of his ignorance?

Not that it had been his fault in any way, of course, but the wizarding world had still expected him to be much more than he had been. Would they be disappointed once again, though? That was something to look out for. Whatever the case, he would face it as it came.

"— was really brilliant, and you should have seen some of the maneuvers the chasers pulled off, Ced, I couldn't believe it!" Heidi was telling the others when he tuned into the conversation, and really, he needed to stop drifting off into his musings so often, "maybe you guys will join me next summer, eh? We could all go and see a game together!" she finished saying, obviously exited.

"I'm sorry Heidi, but I didn't catch which teams were playing," he asked sheepishly, "I was daydreaming a bit."

She waved it off, nearly jumping in her seat in excitement, "It was the Harpies versus the Tornadoes! And it was a really close game as well. If the Tornadoes' Seeker hadn't caught the snitch when he did, the Harpies would have wiped the floor with them, seeing how their chasers were running the keeper ragged."

"It does sound like a fun game," Cedric commented, "I wish I could have seen it. I'll ask my dad and see about next summer, though," he nodded, "how about you guys? Maybe we could make an outing out of it! I've always wanted to see the more official games, but I've only ever gone to a couple of the minor ones."

"Yeah, my brother told me that it's getting really competitive lately," Kyle jumped in, clearly eager, "we should check the game schedule and set things up!"

Kathy huffed and rolled her eyes, catching everyone's attention, "Honestly, people, we're just starting school now, and you're already planning your next summer holidays? That's a whole year from now!"

"Party pooper," Heidi stuck her tongue out at the dark-haired girl. The two boys just looked around guiltily while trying, and failing, to look innocent. It made him laugh, and he ignored the dirty looks sent his way.

"Well, she _is_ right, you know," he pointed out, watching as the three Quidditch fans slumped in their seats and sulked, as if his word was law (and wasn't that weird enough?), "But that doesn't mean that you can't start planning anyways. If you buy the tickets early it should be cheaper, right?"

"Harry, you're a genius!" Cedric exclaimed, perking up and looking like he either wanted to shake his hand, pat his back or trap him into a headlock, but turned to his seat-mates instead, "I'll owl my dad this week and ask, you guys should do the same, okay?"

"Abso-bloody-lutely!" Kyle said with a pumped fist.

"I'll send mum a letter, too," Heidi said, rubbing her hands in anticipation before looking over at Kathy who gave the lot of them a flat look.

They stood there, silently staring for almost a minute before the girl shrugged and looked away, "Fine."

"Yes!" Cedric and Kyle traded a high-five above a smug-looking Heidi's head.

He was surprised, however, when the three of them turned and looked over at him as well, "What?" he asked, confused at the sudden attention.

"You _have_ to come with us, Harry," Heidi told him, while Cedric nodded along.

Kyle cut in enthusiastically, "That'd be brilliant, mate! Have you ever seen a professional game? My brother told me it's one of the most exciting things there is and nothing like the games played at Hogwarts! You have to come with us!"

He couldn't really tell them that he'd seen the World Cup now could he? But still, Kyle was right on saying a professional game was way more exciting than a regular one. And yet, he was surprised all of them, including Kathy, who was looking very much like he was the only sane person in the compartment, wanted him to go as well. Him, a first year, "Let me know when it'll be and how much and I'll ask," though he never specified who he was going to ask, or indeed, what, "and I'll let you know then."

Kyle and Cedric whooped and started chattering away with Heidi while they made plans on which teams they wanted to see and whose parents they should ask to take them.

It was bizarre, though. He remembered all too clearly how the older years seemingly ignored the younger students, and he had to admit he was guilty of doing the same thing himself, so it surprised him how easily these four, who were obviously close friends, had invited him to hang out with them and welcomed him so easily into their fold. Why was that? Was it because it was in their Hufflepuff nature? Was it because of how easily he had kept up with them, or how he had clicked with them? They did, after all, have some common points of interest.

Still, at the same time he thought all of this, and after watching how out of place Mandy looked, he started a conversation with her, though it was not nearly as interesting as the one with the third years had been. They talked of more mundane things, like what house they thought they would end up in and what classes they were most looking forward to.

Harry had to coax her to answer his questions and babble about quite a number of nonsensical things to make her open up.

It struck him how very young they all seemed to him; how very innocent. None of them had experienced war or grown up as fast as he had, and were only concerned with trivial topics while he himself had much deeper and more impacting worries; not that he didn't like talking to them, of course, but it made him feel older than he had ever felt before.

And certainly older than an eleven year old should ever feel.

It didn't take too much for the Hufflepuff foursome to join into their idle chatter and started telling Mandy and him about the teachers, giving them tips about them and their classes; who to watch out for, what to do and all of usual gossip students shared about their professors.

He didn't miss the grateful look that Kathy sent his way as Mandy became more animated, and so gave the older witch a cheeky little wink in response, almost laughing at her startled expression.

Boys his age shouldn't be able to catch looks like those, he was sure, and Kathy looked like someone who was rather smarter than the norm. Not someone with Hermione's intellect, no, but someone with a rather developed intuition all the same. He had to wonder what she and the others were making out of him; what kinds of conclusions had they drawn about the Boy Who Lived?

Had they even made any conclusions in the first place?

The older students were in the middle of a comparison between who was stricter, McGonagall or Snape, when a shrill scream echoed throughout the carriage. Everyone jumped, startled, and whipped toward the door, which Kyle had already opened to see what the hell was going on.

No one noticed how he had tensed or how his wand had seemingly appeared in his hand. Harry could hear multiple compartment doors opening, and an equal amount of doors being quickly closed right after, and he was almost about to push his away outside when he heard it.

Laughter.

Or more precisely, a very familiar laughter.

_The Weasley Twins_, he though and relaxed, now curious as to what the two troublemakers had done. He didn't remember this from his first trip, but then, he had been in the absolute last compartment of the train.

He stood up when the laughter grew louder as doors were quickly shut and students scrambled and screamed because of something unseen. Kyle was still peeking outside when something seemed to startle him and he tried to shut the door, but he had slammed it so fast and so hard that it just bounced open once again.

Before he knew it, Kathy was screaming and Mandy and Kyle and Heidi were joining her and everyone was scrambling onto the seats and away from the floor. And that's when he saw it, and he couldn't help the chuckles that escaped him; it was the single biggest effin' tarantula he had ever laid eyes on.

He leaned down and was amazed when it reared on its back-legs while baring its gigantic fangs and waved its fore-legs in Harry's direction. It was half the size of a small dog, and though he had never really seen Lee's giant tarantula, the thing was famous enough in Gryffindor Tower for him to know what it was.

"Well, aren't you a monstrous little thing, eh?" he asked as he kneeled in front of the tarantula, looking all fuzz and legs and big eyes, even as he put his hands in the floor in front of it and it settled down and inspected both appendages.

"Dear Merlin!" Heidi squeaked.

"Don't get close to it!" Kathy warned him shrilly while hugging Mandy to her.

He ignored the wide-eyed looks sent his way from his cabin-mates and simply smiled at the tickly feeling of the hairy legs of the tarantula as it climbed up his hands and settled in his arms, tucking its rear legs against its body and waving its long, even hairier front legs in front of Harry as he stood up.

It tickled too.

Compared to an Acromantula, the little bugger looked kind of cute, as well, in a Hagrid-like perspective.

"Bloody hell," Kyle breathed, looking pale from his plastered position against the compartment wall, "you'll be a Gryffindor for sure, Harry."

And someone laughed in relief when nothing untoward happened to him.

Still, everyone seemed to agree, including the incredulous looking Lee and the ecstatic twins, who were just holding onto each other in hilarity while they stood in their compartment door. "Blimey, mate," Lee spoke up, half-apologetic, half-amazed, "I'm sorry about all this, but these two numbskulls set him loose," he nodded toward the curious looking arachnid in his arms.

Now that he could see the blighter up close, he was amazed at the bright red in its fur as well as the fact it didn't have the horrifying amount of eyes the Acromantula in the Forbidden Forest had had.

"So he's yours, then?" he walked up to the Quidditch commentator, amused when everyone settled down and Cedric and Kyle came in for a closer look, though they didn't get _too_ close.

"Yeah, I got him just last week. He doesn't even have a name yet," he said and added with a shrug, even as he reached to scratch the tarantula behind its big eyes. "I'm Lee Jordan, and those two buffoons," he pointed at the twins, who were getting themselves together, "Are Fred and George Weasley."

"Its nice meeting you," he nodded at his new friends, "you probably know them, right? And that's Mandy over there. I'm Harry Potter."

"_Harry Potter_?" The twins yelped, straightening quite suddenly, and Lee's hand froze at his introduction, looking at him goggly-eyed.

Fred and George, shocked, immediately looked up at his forehead and gawked, and Kathy muffled a laugh when he rolled his eyes in her direction. Luckily, he didn't have arms for the twins to shake and Lee was too awestruck to do anything else.

"Does he—?" one twin asked the other.

"He _does_," the closest twin confirmed.

"Yes, yes, I know I'm rather fit and all, what with this dashing scar, but you don't have to stare at me quite so much. I've already declined to pose for a statue to be placed in a museum, though my chocolate frog card will be out soon, so you can gawk at that, eh?"

"Really?" more than two people asked at once, including the wide-eyed Weasley twins, and he couldn't keep the snort of laugher in after a few moments.

"That was too easy," he laughed and the tarantula in his arms waved at them all, even as the twins broke into identical grins. "I was only joking, you know," and with a shake of his head, he lifted the giant spider up a bit, "Anyways, don't you have a place for this cute fellow here?" he asked Lee.

"_Cute_?" he heard Heidi disgustingly ask at Cedric, who just shrugged.

Maybe he'd been around Hagrid for too long…

It didn't take long to get the tarantula into its comfy basket or for a few more introductions to take place, mostly consisting of Angelina, Alicia and Katie. But he was soon back in his compartment prattling away about what had happened with his Hufflepuff friends, who were laughing off their own reactions and poking fun at the reactions of everyone else.

It was comfortable, really, and the time flew while they talked.

The clattering approach of the lunch cart lady cut through their chatter though, and Kyle was suddenly peeking out of their compartment once again. Looking at his watch, Harry was surprised she had showed up so early, but then, if she was going front to back, it was only logical.

He walked outside while his cabin-mates bought what they wanted and when they were done, he took out his money pouch from his satchel and bought a whole box of chocolate frogs and a large amount of all of his favorites, knowing there wouldn't be a trip to Hogsmeade this year, and thus, no way to buy his favorite sweets unless he wanted to spend extra by owl-ordering them.

When he was satisfied and had stuffed everything into his satchel, he also bought a more healthy lunch for today and went back into his compartment were everyone was munching on something, mostly sweets, and arguing over what was better and which candies were the best.

"Aren't you going to eat some sweets, Harry?" Cedric asked from around a particularly twitchy frog when he saw him take out one of the sandwiches he'd purchased.

"I have to eat something before I get to the sugar, don't I?" he asked, "I'll starve otherwise."

The blond shrugged; "If you say so," before turning his attention toward a Licorice Wand and taking a hefty bite out of it.

-  
- o -  
-

A knock in their compartment during mid afternoon made everyone looked up from their places, and Heidi, who had switched with Kyle so that the boy could play chess with Cedric, opened the door, even as Harry put his Occlumency book down to see who it could be; he had honestly been waiting for Malfoy to show his pointed face sooner or later, so he was surprised when the pudgy and nervous face of Neville Longbottom appeared in their doorway instead.

"E-excuse me," he said, his voice low and anxious, before he cleared his throat, "b-but have you seen a toad around here? I-I've lost mine."

Kathy, who had been whispering with her younger sister told Neville nicely that no, they hadn't seen a toad in their compartment, which made the shy first year slump slightly.

"And where was the last time you saw him?" Harry asked, his head tilted; Trevor was a slippery little bugger, and he had taken off more than a few times from their dorm room. In fact, he still remembered the time that someone found him in the sink of one of the girl's bathrooms as well.

Startled by the question, Neville fidgeted in thought, which Harry recognized, so he waited patiently, "I, eh, only remember bringing him into the train," the brown-haired boy admitted reluctantly after a moment or two.

"Couldn't you ask one of the older students to summon him?" Cedric asked, but Kathy shook her head.

"No, you need to know what you're summoning and visualize it, so unless a person knows what the toad looks like, they wouldn't be able to summon it."

"Oh," the future Hufflepuff Seeker said, looking thoughtful.

Harry, meanwhile, motioned Neville in as he rummaged in his satchel, storing his Occlumency book once again, somewhat glad for the break, even if he was almost finished with it. The last chapter was particularly tricky, all things considered. Everyone had settled in for the long haul and started doing their own thing, they had all taken turns playing chess and gobstones, and Harry had taken to reading his book after he had played a few times.

However, his actions seemed to attract as much attention as ever and all of his companions looked on curiously until he took out his flute, even as Kyle scooted over and pulled Neville into their seat.

It was Kathy that spoke up first, "What are you doing, Harry?" she questioned.

"Well," he started after taking the flute out of its case and changing it into a more simple and easy to play type, to the awe of his new friends, "have any of you ever seen that little shop in Diagon Alley called Musical Magic?"

"I've seen it a time or two," Kyle piped in, and he saw Heidi nod beside him.

"I went in and found out a whole lot of things about the magic you can do with a musical instrument and bought myself a flute," he let them get closer to it so they could see it, "and I've been practicing for the last month or so. I'm not very good yet," he explained at their interested looks, "but I do know a simple score to attract animals."

"Ohh, like that muggle story where the musician enchanted all the rats and later the kids in a city to follow him?" Mandy exclaimed.

Grinning at her, he nodded, "Yeah, exactly that. The score I know is pretty simple, really, and it doesn't work on big animals, only on small ones. Some wizards even use it when hunting to lure their pray closer."

"And you're going to attract the toad with that, then?" Heidi asked dubiously.

"Yup!" Harry responded chirpily, "So let me try it out, if it doesn't work, well, it won't work."

"T-thanks," Neville told him softly.

Harry simply waved him off and put the flute to his lips and started playing. It was not really all that difficult, anyways; the whole concept of the score was based on repetition. It used three as its base number. It consisted of three notes repeated three times over and over again. You could add variations and change the tone and speed of the melody, just as long as it was the same three notes repeated three times.

If he added any extra notes after each third repetition and made sure to repeat that one after he had repeated the main score three times, that lent a bit more strength to the enchantment.

And so Harry played a wispy, light melody that quickened a bit before slowing and jumped again to make it more catchy; everyone seemed to be enjoying it and he hadn't made a mistake yet, not with how easy it was to play, and especially since he wasn't introducing anything extra or fancy into it.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he felt his magic mix with the flute and then with the music; it was that same warmth that he felt from his wand every time he used it, though it felt constant now, instead of the brief flash he always felt when incanting a spell. Soon, a smoky trail of golden air was pouring out of his flute and it twisted, turned and looped around them before leaving their compartment altogether, the faint shimmering track of it lingering around them, flowing always forwards as it became longer and longer, in search of its quarry.

Amazed, Heidi opened the compartment door and stuck her head out to follow the wispy trail, and Harry herd her whisper that it disappeared after a few feet, and that the sound seemed not to echo outside of their compartment, to which Harry nodded happily since that was as it should be.

It was working!

More and more his new friends were becoming excited as just in front of them a small mirage appeared, even as Harry concentrated a bit more. Within the mirage, a muddy forest floor could be seen, translucent to their eyes and yet seemingly enticing to a toad. But Harry didn't pay it any mind and continued playing, his concentration unbroken, and before five minutes had passed, they all heard the slow _thump-thump_ of a leaping amphibian as Trevor the Toad leapt into their compartment and landed contently within the illusion created by his music.

The distorted air shimmered and the trail of magical music curled around the mirage, making it look more and more solid the more he played.

There were ways to make the illusion somewhat long-lasting to the animal's perception, but that would take certain dexterity in the closing of the song Harry just didn't have at the moment.

Everyone just started at the content looking toad and then at him in open-mouthed amazement, but Harry didn't stop playing, as he gave a look at Kathy, who he knew to be the most sensible of the lot.

"Ah, yes, right. Why don't you pick your toad up?" she asked distractedly.

Nodding equally dazedly, Neville did just that, relief plastered in his face when he saw that, yes that was his toad, before he turned to Harry, who was just putting his flute down and taking a steadying breath while the other first year thanked him profusely.

"That was incredible, Harry," Kathy told him, getting a bit more animated than he had seen her in the whole trip, "But how did that work? I've never heard of anyone doing anything like that."

Harry explained, even as Neville excused himself to go to his own compartment, and they all listened to what he had learned about the magic in music and the enchantments that could be weaved with a musical instrument.

In fact, Harry was at the stage where he was ready to tackle the slightly more complex score that allowed the magical musician to enchant a flower to bloom. After that, there were other scores that would make a small plant grow and such. Above all of these, Harry wanted to become proficient enough to place some privacy enchantment around his bed later in the year, and maybe a few other simple things on his trunk.

There was a whole world of possibilities, truth be told, and it wasn't long before Mandy and Kathy were talking about looking up what could be done with a violin, which they had both learned to play as children.

The rest of the trip passed by without a glitch; even as Kyle tried to convince Harry to enchanting a gift he was planning to buy for his little sister during the first Hogsmeade weekend, and whose birthday was in October. It was a little illusionary enchantment on a small locket, or so the older boy had told him, so Harry told him he'd give it a try, though he didn't make any promises.

It would make a nice project, though, and should help him develop his skills a bit more, what with another goal in mind. A permanent illusion required a rather delicate melody to make, and though it wouldn't be big, it would still require some rather specific preparations.

Harry was looking forward to the challenge.

-  
- o -  
-

They arrived in Hogsmeade Station in a buzz of activity and seeing that Kyle was rather enthusiastic about being the very _first_ student to arrive at Hogwarts after the summer, it meant that they needed to get onto the first thestral-drawn carriage waiting for the second years and above.

Somewhat bemused, Harry was dragged out of the compartment with the rest even before the train had stopped, though by the eye-rolling going on, this wasn't a strange occurrence, or indeed, the first time it had happened. Still, it _did_ mean they were out the door and onto the Hogsmeade Station before the train had come to a full stop, and stepped out of it running.

Which wasn't half as terrifying as he had first believed.

It was fun actually, so Harry didn't complain too much, even when Cedric and Kathy took Mandy and him to where Hagrid was waiting while the other two secured the first carriage, which sounded like it was successful if Kyle's cheering in the distance was anything to go by.

Shaking his head, he looked around curiously as the sea of students in their black robes and pointed hats swarmed out of the Hogwarts Express. And really, it wasn't until that very moment that he took notice of his hatless state. He swore that he had put the thing on, but now, it wasn't there.

He had no pointed hat on.

Maybe there was some weird magic going on in the train that didn't let him keep his hat on? It seemed like a logical thing to do, true, what with the school's sorting method, but it was still strange he hadn't seen it before.

Then again, he had been a bit too nervous, not to mention excited when he arrived at Hogwarts for the first time. Losing a hat wouldn't have been that important, especially if the magic that did take their hats covered up for their absence, like a Notice-Me-Not or something of the sort.

And he was day-thinking too hard.

Right.

Looking around him, he saw the last few first years joining the group as Hagrid rounded them all up and took them to the boats. Mandy was as silent as ever and visibly nervous as they entered the gloom and darkness of their path, what with only Hagrid's lamp lighting the way.

His wand was in his hand and lighted into a _Lumos_ before his brain registered the fact, and apart from Mandy's shaky smile of thanks, he could see more than a few surprised students looking at him. Still, as Hagrid announced their first view of Hogwarts around the bend, no one really commented on his feat of magic, even as he dimmed his wand-light so those around him could better see the looming castle.

It was just like he remembered it to be, though his emotions toward it were raw and new. He identified them as if they were fluffy puppies in his head and patted the lot of them before sending them away; there was awe and amazement, excitement and belonging, there was a bit of dread along with the not so insignificant weight of responsibility.

He cleared his mind.

Silently he entered a boat and pocketed his wand, staying in the back of the group and mixing in with the shadows. He went unnoticed for the most part, though he saw Malfoy's pointed face turn curiously his way more than once. And just why hadn't the poncy git come searching for him in the train?

It was true, however, that the rumors of his coming to Hogwarts were greatly diminished and mere speculation this time around. Could this be enough for him to fall under Lucius' radar? Maybe the elder Malfoy hadn't given any directions to his son concerning him? That . . . was something to consider.

And as McGonagall gave them their welcoming speech and led them to their sorting, Harry couldn't help but amend a few things to his plan. Lucius Malfoy, after all, had been instrumental in his first years of Hogwarts, and one of his principal antagonists, even if only through his son at times, until Voldemort's return.

If Harry could only get him out of the way sooner . . .

"Now, form a line and follow me," McGonagall's strict command brought things into focus, and Harry followed the nervous pile of first years. His own stride was smooth, however, and he took his time to examine his surroundings, taking particular note of known and familiar faces.

The sorting Hat was perched atop its stool in all its ancient tattered glory and Harry wondered, even as it burst into song, if he could ask the Hat to let him borrow Gryffindor's sword one of these days. Unless, of course, he needed to do something foolishly brave to be allowed to use it.

And wouldn't that be a difficult thing to plan?

He heard Hermione comment on the enchanted ceiling and focused on the here and now. Had Ron, who Harry found whispering nervously to what he was sure would be a Ravenclaw, worried about having to fight a troll? He didn't pick that up, really, though he had tuned out the conversation after the ghosts had appeared.

Sidling up to Hermione in the line, he watched as they all settled and McGonagall made her way to the Hat, "So which house do you think you'll end up in?" he asked, even as he looked around to see Mandy looking on quietly from beside him (had she left his side at all during their trek?), and Padma Patil on Hermione's other side.

"I want to get into Gryffindor, of course," she whispered back as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Still, Harry persisted, until the sorting hat was done with its song, "Why?"

Startled, Hermione peeked anxiously at him, her sights more on the Hat than anything else, "Well, it's obvious, isn't it?" she declared after clearing her throat, though Harry could pick up on her uncertainty, even as 'Abbott, Hanna!' was called to be sorted, "It's the best house in the school; I heard that Dumbledore himself was in it."

She was rather more certain about that then she had been when he had met her the first time on the train, as well, "And you're just going to go into a house because someone else was?" he asked her innocently, "What's to say whatever house Dumbledore was in is the best house for you?" he prodded, and he could see the doubts arising in her mind.

Hermione, nervous, insecure, first year, Hermione Granger just looked at him in horrified realization, her logical brain twirling indecisively in her mind, even as 'Brocklehurst, Mandy' was called to be sorted.

Harry gave her a reassuring smile and saw as his silent companion was placed in Ravenclaw.

He watched silently and more calmly than any of his other year mates as, one by one, they were sorted into their houses. And when 'Granger, Hermione' was called and she didn't run to the Hat like last time, her face frowning, it took more than he remembered for her to be sorted, until at last the hat placed her into _Ravenclaw_.

A slow, crooked smile spread across his face as the Ravens erupted into cheers, and he nodded at Hermione as she made her way there.

Truly, it was the least he could do.

Oh, she had found friends in Gryffindor sooner or later, but that had taken two months. Harry remembered how lonely she had been before that fateful Halloween, how alienated from her own house. Her intellect wasn't truly appreciated in Gryffindor, and even after they had been friends, Harry admitted to himself that they had used her for her brains on more than one occasion.

It wasn't until later, when his confidence had risen that he had been able to pay in kind, but still, he didn't want her to go through what she had once more. In Ravenclaw, if in no other place, she would be appreciated for who she was, and her intellect would be nurtured all the more. Maybe he would have to prod her here and there, just so she didn't lose herself in her books, but that wouldn't be such a bother. It was the least he could do for someone who had proven herself to be such a remarkable friend once upon a time.

And just like that, without hassle or over thought, Harry Potter knew he had to forge a different future. It didn't mean he wouldn't approach those who could have been his friends, just that he would approach each of them differently.

For now, he would help them from afar.

"Potter, Harry!"

Looking up, he nodded at Professor McGonagall and walked up to the hat, and loud whispers suddenly spread across the Hall like wildfire.

"Did she say _Potter_?"

"The _Boy Who Lived_?"

"Really?"

He saw the whole student body craning their necks to look at him, with those farthest away half-out of their before the hat was dropped upon his head. Just like before, he waited.

"Strange," came the hat's small voice in his ears, "Very strange," and Harry could hear the frown in the small voice, as well as the concentration, "A complicated mind you have, yes – with courage enough to spare. Such natural capacity I have not seen in _centuries_. Truly difficult. But where shall I put you?"

Harry tilted his head slightly; curious as to why he couldn't feel any intrusion into his mind. But then, it could be that the Hat didn't use Legilimency, which would mean that it wasn't watching his memories. Could it be that it was directly reading his mind? Maybe gauging his attributes directly?

"Oh, very good," the small voice praised, "That is a rather accurate assessment of my capabilities, though a few things are missing. However, I am here to sort you, even if your mind is rather hard to interpret, so let's see— and what a cunning mind too. But no, Slytherin would feel threatened in your presence . . . and Ravenclaw won't give you any peace."

Quirking a smile, Harry tried not to think too hard on why that would be, though he could understand why Slytherin would be a detrimental choice, more because of what would happen to them than what would happen to him.

"Yes, of course," the hat's small voice agreed, "And that's the difficulty with you, isn't it? Unlike every child I've sorted, I need to consider not what your future House can do for _you_, but how you will affect each House as well — yes, that might just work. An extra_ordinary_ consideration, but I think it will be best if you are in HUFFLEPUFF!"

Taking off the hat, though surprised, Harry couldn't really help but feel pleased, and as he stood up from the stool he noticed the reverberating thumps of stamping feet and noticed the wild cheering from the black and yellow table. Grinning, he made his way to his new house amongst the loudest reception he had ever heard.

The Hufflepuff's were all standing up and clapping, and when he was close enough to them the lot of them _surged_ forward from their table and surrounded him. He felt immediately welcomed as one after the other, the Hufflepuffs introduced themselves and helped him toward their house table while the thumping and clapping and yelling never stopped.

For being the smallest of all four Houses, they sure made themselves felt that night, even an ecstatic Kyle and a grinning Cedric suddenly materialized beside him, thumping him on the back and leading him towards a seat.

He was the last Hufflepuff to be sorted that night as well, so while everyone kept an ear out for new housemates, Harry answered or redirected most of the questions thrown his way. His third year friends helped quite a bit in this regard, even as he thought about his placement and the hat's words.

It made sense, he guessed, being placed with the badgers.

Hufflepuff was the only house that didn't value any particular aptitude in its members, instead valuing hard work, patience, friendship and fair play. Apart from the patience, he knew he fit most of the criteria. And patience could always be learned with some hard work.

It was something to consider later one, that's for sure.

He listened to the Headmasters short speech and nearly dived into the feast when it appeared, hungry as a hippogriff. It was different though, how the conversations around him where about lighthearted subjects as the older students began telling wacky little stories about their summers and their House, as if competing for who could make the funniest joke.

The fifth year prefect, Travis Hart, told them about the who's who of Hufflepuff and pointed towards their Head of House, who waved cheerily down at them.

As a whole, when the feast finished, Harry was completely stuffed and even more interested when his new housemates shared curious looks and shrugs about Dumbledore's warnings of the third floor instead of serious frowns.

Smiling, he joined Cedric and Kyle in a fast clipped rendition of the Hogwarts song, bellowing so loud that his lungs ached when finished, but it had still been fun. He was eleven after all, it was expected of him.

Now though, as they were dismissed to their common rooms, and they followed Tavis's lead, he couldn't help but be tiredly excited.

Of all of the common rooms of the Hogwarts Houses, Hufflepuff's had been the only one to remain a mystery to him. And from what descriptions he had heard of it before, it was supposed to be a singularly comfortable place.

And he couldn't wait to see it.

* * *

_**To be continued…**_


End file.
